TSNM: The Second Verse
by Prototypical
Summary: Life goes on. Not always as intended. After the Fall of Beacon, Team TSNM found themselves mixed up in something much greater than any of them could imagine. Stuck in the middle of untold history and yet-to-be discovered Grimm, former third year students learn more about the reality of Remnant than they would care to know.
1. HOURGLASS (VI ChI)

**[I] Hourglass**

For just a moment, the shadow of a sleek and black-painted Bullhead interrupted the shattered visage of the moon. It flew on, almost silently through the night, soaring above the rolling hills of sand and dry stone outcroppings. The Bullhead slowed as it approached its destination, side panels opening. Sensing its opportunity, the wind tore through the open sides of the aircraft. Moonlight reflected off the silvery hair of the youthful man inside, as the wind disrupted it. Reaching up past the matching pair of blades on his hip, to fix his hair with his free hand, he turned to face the center of the Bullhead. Looking through his visor of tinted blue glass, his gaze fell on his companion, whose single earring shone brightly against the night sky.

"We're here." he said, handing off a Scroll to the young man with the earring. "Wherever 'here' is…"

The Scroll faintly illuminated the deep purple of his jacket as he took it in his hand. The crimson way-point flashed steadily at their current location. He nodded silently and handed it back to the owner, before peering over the edge himself. He saw only sand, with a scattering of natural rock formations. Pillars and arches, eroded by wind and time. A single plateau rose in the distance. As the Bullhead turned in a slow circle, the rocks below him revealed more. Nestled in amongst the weathered stone was a small military base, or what he could only assume was the remains of it. The torn fabric of what used to be tents fluttered in the breeze, the rusted structure of portable buildings sinking slowly into the ground.

He turned back to the man who had handed him the Scroll. "Stay here, Nickelas. Keep me updated on our surroundings. I don't like the look of this place, I'm only seeing one exit." He paused and look down at the ruins half buried in sea of sand, "This is Forward Base Hourglass, then? I'd like to know just what it is the headmaster sent us to retrieve. I don't like the secrecy much, Nickelas. These are the border sands, we're practically in Vacuo."

With that, he turned to the cockpit door and tapped out three quick knocks. "Hey, Magnolia." She turned around in the co-pilot's chair, and even though he couldn't see her eyes through the blindfold she wore, he could tell she was looking directly at him.

"Yes, Thyst?" she responded, with her usual near-hiss of a lisp. Her long white hair was tied back tightly into a ponytail, hints of red hidden within, and it swayed as she turned.

"We've made it to our destination." He looked upwards a moment and collected a few thoughts. "I'll need you on the ground with me," Thyst explained, motioning his head to the side and out the open door. Magnolia uncrossed her legs and stood, her bare feet meeting the metal of the cockpit floor.

"Gladly," she said, stretching her back, and giving the pilot seated next to her a light pat on the shoulder as she walked from the cockpit. "Don't get too lonely without me now."

The pilot let out a single, short noise vaguely akin to a laugh, through the two filters of the gas mask that covered the entire lower half of his face.

"I'll try my best."

"I have no idea what to expect, so I trust you to just have my back while we're down there." Thyst said, addressing Magnolia, "I'll be sure to watch yours." then turned to the pilot, "Drop us right at the entrance, Stick, this should be quick and simple, a routine sweep and clear. We'll call for exfil when we have what we're looking for."

Without turning from the controls, the pilot lifted a single hand and gave a half-hearted, two finger salute.

* * *

A single figure fell from the airship, and the ground rushed up to meet her. She spun in the air, and from her elbow length, flowing sleeve, a blade flew out in a blur, burying itself with ease into one of the archways of sandstone. A thin chain, of metal ringlets, trailed behind it, and kept it attached to her person. Using her momentum, she swung cleanly through the archway. Soaring through the air, she braced herself to land, and slid to a surprisingly gentle halt, her toes digging into the sand. With a tug of the chain, she pulled the knife loose, and it quickly retreated back into her outfit.

A moment later, there was a flash of light, a crackling, and then Thyst was standing beside her, the sand beneath his feet instantly transformed into a fine layer of glass. Magnolia turned to him. "You've always loved making an entrance." She said as she ran the tip of her tail through the sand. She enjoyed the sensation.

They stood in silence for a moment before the meager ruins. The wilderness was silent, save for the faint whir of the Bullhead's twin engines, circling in the sky above. The silence was broken by a voice that came to them through an earpiece.

"You've got Grimm moving through the remains of the base, looking about the size of an average Beowolf, nothing you can't handle." Nickelas informed him, "I'm sensing another Grimm just on the other side of the base, a hollowed out section of the rock… it's not a natural cave. It's looking like a Deathstalker... It must have built its lair out of what remains of the base… Oh, but I'm sure with a little effort you two can handle that." he quipped.

Thyst cast a sideways glance at the airship, distaste in his glare. He was thinking of a witty retort when a howl interrupted him, the first Beowolf cresting the hill, between them and the base. It promptly tripped over it's own front legs and tumbled down into the sand. A small knife had found itself nestled between the Grimm's eye sockets.

A few feet off, Magnolia stood ready, her fingers bristling with blades. Her tail swished gently, but then with a twitch, a series of progressively smaller metal plates - whose edges shone with the glint of sharpness - extended from under the sash around her waist, and fitted themselves snugly along the length of her tail. Attached to the smallest segment, at the very end, was a disc of highly reflective metal. From her hand, she threw out a fan of knives, and two more Beowolves turned to pincushions, on the ground.

Meanwhile, Thyst tensed and spun his wrists with a satisfying crack of joints, and in response, twin pairs of subtly curved blades unfolded outwards from his forearms. He took a wide stance as one of the Grimm that escaped the hail of knives charged at him. He sidestepped it with ease, as it drew close, and punched downward with his right arm as it passed, catching it in the torso and shearing it in half with ease. Pulling his left arm back, the pair of blades there collapsed into a sharp angled hexagon, about the size of dinner plate. A second Grimm took a swipe at him, which proved easy to dodge. Ignoring this Grimm, with a step and a follow-through, he hurled this newly formed chakram into the chest of the Alpha of the pack.

In the blink of an eye, Thyst had his feet pressed up against its chest, one hand gripping the thrown weapon, his other arm extended passed the Alpha's ivory maw. He yanked his arm back and removed the head from the beast's shoulders. As it's body began to dissipate and fall, Thyst pushed off its chest and pulled his weapon free, landing softly on ground. He watched as Magnolia turned from another corpse already turning to mist, and swept the legs out from under her next foe, flipping it on its back, then, with a swift strike from her serpentine tail, slashed it's throat open.

Thyst refit the chakram to his wrist, where it folded back into its resting state, along his arm. He raised his fist in the direction of the single remaining Grimm. With two cracks, and two flashes, it fell dead, the barrels mounted on Thyst's left wrist smoking.  
"Done." He muttered to himself. But the comms piece in his ear responded, crackling to life.

"You forgot the Deathstalker." Nickelas's said matter-of-factly.

Thyst sighed.

"I didn't forget…"

"It's heading straight at you, Thyst." Nickelas urged.

Thyst turned around and watched as the large scorpion Grimm burst from the broken remains of the base, tearing already ruined tents to shreds, and swept it's glowing eyes from side to side, leaving multiple faint trails of orange in the air. Once it settled the glowing dots of it's eyes on the two Huntsman, the Grimm's stinger rose threateningly.

Magnolia could still clearly hear the constant noise of the Bullhead, but she decided she had more pressing matters to attend to. While Thyst stood his ground, she was already sprinting around the side of the Deathstalker. She thrust her hand downward and took the larger knife in her grip. With a wide swing of her arm, she flung it. The hooked knife flew through the air, trailing it's fine chain behind it. After reaching it's full length, and pulling taut, Magnolia tugged on the chain and caught the oncoming Deathstalker by the tail, wrapping the chain once around tightly, before letting the hook dig into it's flesh. She began to pull the chain in, and rocketed towards the massive scorpion.

Magnolia swung around the Grimm's tail and landed softly on it's back. With a twist of her arm and a tug, the blade detached and retreated into her flowing sleeve. She smiled to herself, reached into the front of her kimono, and flipped out a fresh pair of knives.

Back on the ground, Thyst had begun his counter-charge at the Deathstalker Magnolia had so deftly mounted. The Grimm slowed and reared backwards as she stabbed it in two of it's many eyes. The creature gave a futile attempt to snap at her, but she avoided it's claws with grace and little effort. With it was distracted, Thyst took his chance and lunged for it's legs, removing multiple, in a short flurry of slashes. Silence promptly returned to the sandy expanse,.

* * *

The simple chain wire fence had clearly been set up more as a formality, than for any modicum of protection. Upon closer inspection, barely half of it still remained upright. The portions that did stay standing were not untouched, however. Much of the remaining fencing bore large gashes.

While Stick kept the Bullhead in a slow circular flight path, Thyst was kneeling in what remained of (at least, what he assumed used to be) the barracks. At the moment, he was in the middle of sweeping sand off the top of an old locker at the end of a twisted and rust-covered bed frame. Undoing the latches and opening the container yielded a comparatively untouched pocket of space, existing in stark contrast to his current surroundings.

Thyst reached in and removed an empty rifle magazine. After brief inspection, he placed it back where it was, and with little hesitation, he grabbed the item of far superior interest. The rifle inside was clearly battle-worn, but other than a few minor scratches, it was in operable condition. He lifted the weapon from the box, leveled it to his shoulder, and after aiming down the sights, fired a few imaginary shots into the emptiness. The weapon was simple, the kind of standard issue thing used to arm the bulk of soldiers in the Kingdoms' militaries.

"This has to be a collector's item, by now…" Thyst muttered to himself, "Just how old is this base?"

He placed the weapon back down. He had something more important to find. The something that was broadcasting this waypoint, the same something the Headmaster had specifically tasked Thyst's team with retrieving.

* * *

Magnolia put her full weight into the metal door, and managed to push it back open, emerging again into the outside world, but not without another groan of complaint from the rusted hinges. Of the three structures with actual walls, Magnolia had opted to begin her search in one of the smaller ones. She had also decided to avoid the one building that was currently in three pieces and half-submerged in the sand. Unfortunately, her search had yielded her nothing of importance. She watched as Thyst emerged from the skeleton of support frames. He shook his head.

They turned their attention to the largest building, largest only by the slightest margin. Judging by the central location, as well as the series of antenna lining the roof, this was the closest thing to a command center that remained.

"Perhaps this would have made a better place to start out search?" Magnolia asked.

Thyst stared at the building for a moment.

"You're not wrong…"

* * *

The inside was dimly lit, but by leaving the door open, Thyst had some light to rummage by. The entire room possessed a distinct ashy smell, and the source of the smell littered every surface in sight.

Approaching a flipped table near the door, Thyst went about setting it upright, reaching for the table's legs. They broke off instantly in his grasp. After a pause, he bent down and slid his fingers under the top of the upturned table and flipped it upright. However, what it failed to do was stay in one piece. All that he found underneath were the equally burnt remains of paper. He knelt down to pick the nearest one up, but it crumbled to ash in his hand. He couldn't rightly admit he expected anything else to happen.

A quiet voice sounded from the other side of the room. It was Magnolia's.

"We may need to ask Nickelas for help with this." She said, stepping aside and motioning to what was before her, "I'm not the best with computers…"

* * *

Stick pulled the Bullhead in low, and the doors opened to let Nickelas out. Once his feet touched the ground, the doors slid closed and the aircraft ascended rapidly.

Nickelas placed a hand on the doorway, and passed through the opening, where he found his teammates hovering around a computer monitor. They turned to look at him as he entered.

"Someone call for the IT guy?" he said as he approached them. "What seems to be the problem?" The pair stepped aside and let Nickelas through. "Oh, well here's your problem. You didn't turn it on." He took a seat on the floor next to the system's container, and felt around for seams in the metal. After a few seconds, he took a firm grasp with his fingers and pried off the side panel. "There we go…" He muttered, tossing it aside. "Hey, Thyst, down here with me."

Thyst knelt down and peered inside. Nickelas pulled a few wires out and shifted a few pieces inside. "See, the main problem as you may have gathered…" He reached in and pulled out a rather thick wire. "Is that there's obviously-" He tugged the wire and held it to Thyst. "-hold this please- no electricity. "

With that, the computer screen flickered to life.

"Thank you, Thyst." he said as he stood up and let his hands hover above the keyboard. "Let's see… Ah, password protected. As expected." He let out a sigh and reached behind his ear, unplugging a small device from his visor. He replaced it in an open port on the computer. A progress bar appeared before his eyes, covering the small map.

"I'm transferring anything and everything I can salvage." Nickelas said, as he turned to the others. Thyst looked up from he kneeling position on the ground, the wire Nickelas gave him still in his hand.

"I assume this is what we were sent to find?" Thyst asked, staring out the doorway as Magnolia exited the building.

"I'd agree, but I still can't figure out what exactly is sending out this waypoint." Nickelas said, taking off his visor and placing it next to the keyboard. He peered back into the computer's innards. "Maybe it's embedded somewhere in here, it wouldn't need to be that big."

Magnolia had since wandered outside, she knew her skills. She dug her toes into the earth and took a peaceful moment to enjoy the coolness of the sand on her feet.

Back inside, Nickelas's visor displayed the progress bar, as it half covered the map, on which a crimson waypoint blinked regularly.

Magnolia stood still in the moonlight, and took in the world around her. Something in the sand shifted. She could feel it.

"I don't know, Thyst." Nickelas said as he stood up, "I still can't find any kind of-" A slight beep came out of Nickelas's visor on the table. "-oh, the transfer is complete." He removed the device from the computer and placed it back on his visor. He them lifted the visor and put it back on his face. He looked at the new information.

"Hmm… This is a surprisingly small list of files. Thyst, you can drop the wire." Thyst did so, and the computer screen went blank in an instant. "We might as well head back with this, it's all we could find. I'll take a quick browse through the files on the way back to Beacon." The two emerged into the night air once more, and Thyst turned to Nickelas.

"I'm still confused as to where the waypoint signal is coming from." He mused, "Maybe it ended up underground? I wouldn't doubt-."

Magnolia felt the rumbling first. But she had no time to react before the ground erupted in a plume of sand and the building the three of them were in moments before ceased to exist. Thyst and Nickelas were thrown from where they were standing, and came to a skidding halt, prone, and nearly twenty feet from where Magnolia was standing.

In the space where the building once was, a hulking black creature now inhabited it.

It's insectoid body segmented by it's white exoskeleton. Hundreds of writhing limbs covered it's long body, in addition to innumerable spikes and spines of varying sizes. It's wide, triangular head, which was already nearly sharpened to a razor's edge, possessed three long and constantly threshing mandibles.

"I don't want to sound cliché, everyone," Nickelas said, standing up and brushing off his shoulders, before reaching for his swords. He took them in his grip and after a moment, the edges of the blades sprung to life with harsh blue light. "but... According to my visor, I think we've just found the waypoint. Or more accurately, it found us."

The comms crackled to life once again and Stick, having stayed silent up until this point, finally voiced his mind.

"So, about 'quick and simple'..."


	2. HEADFIRST (VI ChII)

**[II] Headfirst**

The chaingun brought fiery life to the night sky, bullets flying like shooting stars Whatever this thing was, subtlety had gone out the window when it showed up, and now was an appropriate time to use the big gun mounted on the nose of the Bullhead. While Stick had witnessed this gun alone tear apart entire packs of Beowolves, and practically split Nevermores in two, the bullets currently looked to merely deflect off the hardened shell of this living wheat thresher of a Grimm.

On the ground, Thyst was more than pleased to be given a chance to think, while the new massive foe was distracted by what amounted to a mechanical housefly, granted he'd be distracted too if the housefly was about the size of his head.

"Hey, Nick, you got anything for us?" He called out through the shifting dust cloud that now filled the premises of the formerly Forward Base Hourglass. Nickelas's voice responded a few feet to his left.

"It's a little hard to focus when I'm trying not to die here!" He yelled over the churning earth. "If you really want to know the obvious, aim for its underbelly when it rears-" he stopped, and pivoted before running in the opposite direction as the Grimm came down fast and burrowed into the ground once more. "-upwards. The armor is noticeably less thick underneath."

Magnolia was navigating the artificial sandstorm with ease, when she felt the telltale rumble in the sand again. While Nickelas may be able to see and analyze the movements of the Grimm while it was above ground, he was blind the moment it went subsurface again. Unlike Nickelas, Magnolia's senses weren't enhanced by a Semblence. Everything she had came from patience, and years of practice. She called out to her companions, yelling for them to dive to the sides immediately. To which they complied, narrowly evading the thresher Grimm's gaping maw as it burst from the desert's surface again. Her tail twitched with anticipation. This was the largest target she would have ever taken down. That was, of course if she did succeed in taking it down.

Thyst raised his right forearm to the silhouette of the monstrous centipede, and let a small crossbow-esque system of pulleys unfold from his wrist, just behind the dual bladed weapon in his grip. He knocked a dart with a blunt, but faintly glowing head into it, and took aim hastily. The Grimm may be slow coming back down to the ground, but it wasn't long enough to take his time. Besides, as long as he hit anywhere on the broad barnside of the creature's underbelly, this shot would hypothetically be effective. The dart launched with a twang, and cut through the curtain of sand between itself and its target.

Thyst watched as the cloud of electricity erupted from the Grimm's underside in spectacular fashion. Then he looked on in disappointment as it seemed not to phase the Grimm in the slightest. His favorite type of Dust had failed him. He sprinted and flashed in a crackle of light to the side as the Grimm came down hard where he had been standing. Magnolia and Nickelas were spread out across the open courtyard of the base. He could feel the sudden silence as Stick paused his hailstorm of bullets, letting the multiple barrels of the chaingun cool down after it's continuous firing.

He knocked a second, faint orange dart to his wrist.

"Let's see how this bastard likes fire..." he muttered to himself. He looked up when Magnolia called his name, then watched as she motioned for him to come towards her. He took three running steps, then flashed into place next to her. He couldn't have done so sooner, as the Grimm burst from under his previous location, rising into the air only to let out a ear splitting screech. Whipping around, he launched the second dart at the Grimm. It flew straight and true and struck the Grimm between two sections of exoskeleton plating near the base of it's wide, triangular head. The result was satisfying, with the combustion of Dust, the flash of yellow warmth. The Grimm reared up, and Thyst cheered, seeing he had struck what looked like a damaging blow. The Grimm stood erect for a moment, it's mandibled mouth foaming. Then it began to tip downward towards the ground.

Nickelas saw it coming. His eyes widened. Then he ran towards Thyst and Magnolia as fast as he humanly could. He took both of his curved swords and let them loose from his grip. A dust cloud stirred up around the group as the wind from the falling Grimm rushed down.

As the dust settled, the bright blue glow of Nickelas's barrier stood as a bastion before the trio. His swords had taken on the loose outline of a heater shield and held fast to his arm, emitting a wide oval barrier before them. Thyst looked up at the wide projection of energy in surprise. The energy wall was dripping with an unfamiliar dark orange liquid. He looked up past the Nickelas and the shield, to see the Grimm was still standing.

Completely unscathed.

He turned and looked behind him, and watched in horror as one of the two remaining buildings sizzled and melted before his very eyes.

"Oh shit…" he said swinging his focus back to the Grimm. He took in the situation for a brief moment. "Oh... shit."

Nickelas's breathing was heavy, but he stood his ground. His shield held up just fine, the acidic quality of the Grimm's attack unable to eat through the hardlight that constructed the barrier. As far as he knew he had only narrowly saved his friends' lives. He sighed quickly, before catching his breath.

Stick watched the events unfold from the air, and wasn't about to let this monstrosity get the better of his squadmates. He adjusted the wings, and flew the Bullhead in, close. Then without a moment's more hesitation, opened fire on the Grimm to get it's attention. Knowing the creature could attack at range made his position in the air a lot more dangerous than it was previously, but at this angle there was no way the Grimm could physically turn fast enough to fire off a second volley of that mucousy substance at him.

Bullets bounced harmlessly off the thick, natural armor of the Grimm, embedding instead in the walls scattered around the surrounding glowing red eyes swiveled, leaving a faint orange trail, and its gaze fell upon the aircraft. Stick was ready for it to turn, and swung in a large arc, fast and far to the opposite side that it was turning its body. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw it's head start to turn, and it was turning the wrong way. Independent from the body, the Grimm's head spun a full hundred and eighty degrees, the individual segments of it's body following this physically impossibly motion, shifting in an extremely confusing manner, each segment spinning independent from the others. Stick was awestruck by its movements. It was mesmerizing.

"Move it, Stick! I doubt the Bullhead's hull will take well to that thing's spit!" Nickelas's voice yelled over the comms, snapping Stick back into the moment. He recovered his focus at the same moment that the Grimm's mouth began foaming again. Stick pulled back on the controls to gain altitude as quickly as possible.

Just not quickly enough. There was a thump, and the Bullhead's weight shifted and it stayed shifted. Everything felt wrong. The controls weren't responding like they should be. Stick didn't need the multiple warnings flashing on the dashboard to tell him that something was wrong. The smell of burning metal was enough for him to figure it out.

Nickelas, Thyst, and Magnolia watched as the Bullhead spiraled out of control, the viscous orange liquid eating away at the leftmost of the two engines. There was nothing they could do to stop it, expect to trust Stick's abilities as a pilot. They had faith that if anyone could figure out how to keep a Bullhead with a single wing in the air, it was Stick. Magnolia switched her piercing gaze from behind the blindfold to the Grimm and reached for the knot buried within her hair. She found it and took a firm hold of it.

A hand took her wrist.

"No, not yet. We can't risk it. Not with Stick right there. I know you don't want to hurt him. So put your hand down." It was Thyst that had her wrist. She paused, then after a moment, reluctantly let her hand fall, before pulling it from his grip. He urged her to keep moving, and the three of them began circling the Grimm that now looked to be readying another volley.

"This thing won't go down," Nickelas was yelling, to himself more than to the others. "I can't think of any way to injure it… damn it! If we could just get it to stop mov...ing…" He paused. And stopped running. "The Deathstalker."

Thyst and Magnolia stopped and turned to him, confused looks on their face.

"The Deathstalker!" He exclaimed again. "Just do what you did to the Deathstalker!"

Magnolia looked at him. Then looked at the Grimm.

"That thing? Excuse me? I'm am not going anywhere near that thing's mouth."

"Yes. No… you don't have to, but yes, I hadn't noticed before, it was too simple, but the Grimm does have hundreds, if not thousands of weak points!" He started running again, and others followed him.

"The way it's spinning made me think about how it moves, and I was ignoring the obvious. Its legs! Every place one of its legs connects to the body segments, there's a break in the armor, otherwise its joints would be too rigid to move!"

Thyst's second warglaive unfolded and took its familiar place in his hand.

"I like where this is going…" he said, taking closer note of the Grimm's many limbs than he had before. He turned to Magnolia, "I'm not asking you to go anywhere near that thing's mouth, hell, I wouldn't want to myself. But I need you to scale its back," he pressed two fingers to his ear's comm piece, "I'll make sure it doesn't notice you." He looked to the sky, "Stick, think you can stabilize long enough to fire a few shots at that thing again?"

The Bullhead's spiral was slowing noticeably when Thyst's voice came over the comms to Stick, who was actively fighting the forces of gravity. As long as he was airborne, he was winning. "A distraction?" He thought to himself, then yanked on the aircraft's yoke to pull it in line with the Grimm, firing the chaingun as he swept past, a line of bullets fanning out, only a few of them making any contact. The ones that did, struck the face and stunned the beast. "I'll do you one better…"

The Grimm let out a sound somewhere between a shriek and a hiss, then hurled itself back into the ground, vanishing in a cloud of sand once more. In the brief moment of respite, Stick took the control wheel in one hand and reached behind him for the ammunition belt that was slung across the back of his seat. He pulled out a long rectangular cartridge and grinned.

"There we are…" He muttered to himself as he pulled two more from the belt.

On the ground, Thyst, Magnolia, and Nickelas dodged the re-emergence of the Grimm and got back to their feet, a little too close for comfort.

"Hey, Stick, we could use another distraction, if you don't mind..!" Thyst called out urgently.

Stick scoffed, then shifted to an extremely serious tone.

"Oh, it'll be a distraction alright…" He answered through his earpiece. After which he kicked out the glass on the Bullhead's cockpit and pulled the long, thin rifle from a wall mount behind him. The belt from before was already tightly fastened to his waist, and he had a devilish grin on his face. Howling wind and shards of glass filled the cockpit as Stick jammed the yoke forward, and sent the Bullhead careening directly for the Grimm, the remaining engine roared to life with renewed vigor. He fired off a burst from the chaingun and the Grimm turned to face the oncoming Bullhead. It's mouth began to foam and it opened it's thresher of a mouth to ready it's attack.

It never did attack. Before it could gather up enough of it's digestive fluids, the aircraft slammed full speed into its open maw. Then a few moments later, it was engulfed in a massive explosion.

* * *

Thyst stared on in disbelief at what he was witnessing. The Grimm recoiled in pain, then fell. The burning wreckage stuck in its mouth. It writhed on the ground as it tried to remove the burning metal, but to no avail. Overcome with emotion, Thyst's body crackled with electricity along every edge. Both the air and the ground sparked as he charged the wounded beast, screaming. In a blur of lighting and blades, legs began dropping from the insectoid Grimm, it's shrieks of pain muffled by the wreckage of the Bullhead. He mounted it's head and began slashing mercilessly, as Nickelas and Magnolia looked on. Nickelas took a few forward and tried to approach, but Magnolia blocked him with her arm. She shook her head, silently.

The savagery of Thyst's strikes, much like the electricity that surrounded him, only grew stronger as he bore down on the Grimm's armored head. With a shout of devastated anger, his arms crackled, pulling in all the electricity in the air around him as he swung. Then with a crack, he broke through the Grimm's exoskeleton. Into the gap in the armor he pressed his wrist, and fired bullet after bullet into the exposed inner flesh.

His body continued to crackle with electricity as he stood up, atop the dying monster's head. He walked across it with seething determination, and took one of the hooked mandible in his hand, drawing blood across his palm in the process. With a swift and purposeful strike, he tore it from the body with one final, enraged yell into the night sky. He jumped from the creature, and landed in front of its open maw and the wreckage within. His breathing slowed.

He dropped the mandible.

His body stopped crackling.

And he fell headfirst into the sand.

* * *

Unlike Thyst, Nickelas and Magnolia had seen the spark of turquoise on the nose of the the Bullhead before it's impact, and even more so Magnolia knew Stick just wasn't that stupid. While Nickelas rushed to help the semi-conscious Thyst up, Magnolia turned and walked towards where the unidentified object had fallen from the Bullhead and slammed rather forcefully into the sand. She crouched down next to him. He looked up at her dazed. Magnolia flicked Stick in the forehead.

"You crashed our only ride home, you idiot." She said, looking him in the eyes. With a delirious laugh, he coughed.

"Is it dead?" He asked

"After the stunt you pulled, Thyst thought you were gone and after that, he made short work of it. So yes, it's dead." She sighed "You make us worry too much sometimes." She smiled and held out her hand.

He smiled back but waved her offer away, standing on his own and supporting his weight with his rifle.

"And Thyst? Is he alright?"

"A little worn out, but I think he's already coming to."

Stick stretched and took a deep breath.

"I think I should share the good news of my resurrection with him."

* * *

Blinking a few times, Thyst opened his eyes to the rising sun of dawn. He turned his head to the left, and saw a figure squatting next to him. He squeezed his eyelids together tightly then opened them, letting the world come into focus again. The first thing he noticed was the warm brown hair, shaved short on both sides, but remaining long on top, parted only to the left and long enough to reach the figure's lips. Then the two silver earrings cuffed around the figure's right ear came into focus. A gas mask hung loosely around his neck. This was Stick squatting next to him. But wasn't he..? Overwhelming relief rushed over him, then a bit of confusion, then more relief.

"Welcome back to the world of the living." Stick greeted him with, accompanied by his familiar two fingered salute.

Thyst stared at him a moment, then opened his mouth.

"But you… the Bullhead… when…" He muttered out, his brain still foggy.

"You really think I would have just gone and killed myself, now?" Stick asked him, standing up and extending a hand. Thyst took it and rose from the ground. He looked around and saw the ruined base in the distance. He motioned to it with his thumb.  
"Is it dead?" He asked.

"You know, I asked the same thing." Stick mused, "You killed it." Stick started rummaging through his pockets. "After we got you a safe distance away, we watched it dissipate into smoke and poof, it was gone.. After that, we went back in and Nick found…" He pulled something out of his pocket. "...this." Stick tossed the item to Thyst, who was caught off guard but still able to snatch it from the air. In his palm was a small metal chip, no larger than an average dog tag. He looked at it, then Stick pointed to it.

"Nick says whatever this is, it was inside that Grimm, and it's transmitting the signal we came here for. If Ozpin doesn't want it, I think you should keep it, a souvenir of sorts. I think you earned it."

Nickelas approached the two of them and smiled when he saw Thyst was awake.

"Ah, good morning. Slept well I hope?"

"Could have been better." Thyst joked, as Nickelas turned and looked at the rising sun.

"I checked the map, and if we want to make it to the nearest town before the sun becomes unbearable, we'll need to start moving. It's north, quite a way." Then Nickelas sighed, and looked at his feet, shaking his head, "Oh, boy... What a day we're having... and we haven't even had breakfast yet."

Magnolia walked up behind him.

"You know, it could be worse." She offered.

"How could it be worse?" Nickelas responded.

"It could be raining."

"...Yeah. You're right."


	3. INNKEEPER (VI ChIII)

**[III] Innkeeper**

Thyst pulled his jacket over his head sluggishly as he walked, trying his best to block the harsh sunlight. His weapons were fit snugly in the small of his back, as folded as they physically could be. He thanked his past self for deciding to wear a short sleeve shirt the day before. The sunlight burned down on his team, and no one was happy. Nickelas was in a similar fashion to Thyst, and was in no better condition. Stick wandered a little to his right, stripped down to his tank-top undershirt, and the blue digital camouflage of the many-pocketed, canvas pants that he had grown fond of.

Magnolia on the other hand, felt the effects of the heat a little less than the three that were walking with her. Her light and loose clothing cooling her off marginally, and her snake genetics pitching in as well. However, the sand under her feet was rapidly growing too hot for her comfort, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could walk on it with fear of burning her feet.

They were utterly silent except for the shuffling of their legs, as talking simply took too much effort. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, rather, it was welcome.

Nickelas broke the silence with a single word.

"Look."

It was hazy, but the outline of a settlement rested on the horizon. Relief washed over everyone and they started walking just a little bit faster.

* * *

The innkeeper spun a clean rag around the inside of a large glass. She had made a habit of shining them incessantly when business was slow. She was a pleasantly plump faunus (on account of her horns), and had lived some forty odd years. Her regulars sat in their booths, claimed by unwritten rules, enjoying the fresh drinks she supplied in this parched landscape. This was the quiet, daily routine of Faroff she was accustomed to, so of course she was startled, when a young man with short silver hair stumbled through her door and collapsed onto one of the nearest tables. Her patrons turned their gaze to him, but paid little heed otherwise.

"Hey there, boy, you alright..?" she inquired of him. He didn't respond, so she put the glass she was working on back under the bar, and went to check on him. Before she could tap him on the shoulder, another person came through the door, carrying a purple jacket. His dark brown hair was disorderly, and as it neared his chin, it faded into green. He had a single earring hanging from his left ear. She could have sworn she had seen one of those same exact earrings before. He waved hello, and got her attention.

"Sorry about my friend, ma'am, we've had a pretty long journey to get here." he said with a smile, as he took a seat at the table his friend was currently slumped over. The innkeeper pulled a barstool closer, and placed herself on top of it. She crossed her right leg over her left, and leaned in.

"Call me miss. Ma'am makes me feel old." she said, with a chuckle. "You two look like Huntsmen," she said, taking note of their weaponry. The young man nodded. "What brings you to Faroff? I can't imagine any reason someone would _want_ to come all the way out here."

"We had some technical difficulties, and our airship crashed." a new voice answered. The innkeeper looked up at the two figures coming through the door. The voice came from a figure in a black tank-top, and blue camouflage pants, who was helping a blindfolded woman in.

* * *

"Are you sure none of you are hurt? We have a doctor in town, I'm sure she can help with-" The innkeeper said with the concern of a mother whose child had taken a fall down the front steps.

"It's just some scrapes and bruises, we'll be fine," Thyst interrupted, waving his hand. The innkeeper snatched it from the air.

"Then what's this?" she asked, referencing his palm, where dried blood had caked up with sand. Thyst paused a moment that countered with another question.

"Do you have a sink?" he asked. The innkeeper narrowed her eyes, but directed him with her finger to the bathroom on the other side of the room. Thyst stood up and followed her gaze to the otherwise unmarked door. He walked over to the door and took the handle.

He could hear the innkeeper inquire about the pilot, back at the table, and if they were alright, to which Stick quietly admitted to _being_ the pilot that had crashed their airship. Thyst pushed open the door, and found a quaint bathroom inside, undecorated, with a shallow sink. He turned the valve on, and the water sputtered out into a slow stream. He rubbed his hands together under the water, ridding himself of the grime, before looking up at himself the mirror.

* * *

When Thyst came out of the bathroom, he saw Stick, Nickelas, and Magnolia hadn't moved from the table. The innkeeper was behind the bar once more, serving a refill to a balding older man, with bushy eyebrows. When the old man left the counter, the innkeeper looked Thyst in the eye with piercing intensity, so he held up his hand to show her that there was no wound. She nodded, smiled, and got back to work.

Thsyt approached the table and found Nickelas was still out cold, something Thyst was actually quite jealous of. None of them had slept since the night before they went on the mission that landed them here. He figured it would be best if they stayed the night. This place seemed nice enough, and admittedly they had nowhere else to go.

* * *

Thyst had gotten Nickelas awake just long enough to push him up the stairs into the two person room, where he collapsed onto the bed and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Envying him, Thyst took off his boots, and climbed into the other bed. The cool embrace of sleep overtook him quickly.

* * *

Thyst awoke, and found Nickelas already awake, cross legged on the bed across the room, his visor projecting a holographic screen, covered in what Thyst assumed was data of some kind, but his groggy brain didn't want to think about it. Numbers were for _after_ breakfast. _Speaking of breakfast…_

"Morning." Nickelas said, looking up from the screen. Thyst nodded as he got up from the bed and walked over.

"What's this? Thyst inquired.

"Some of the files I recovered from the forward operating base." Nickelas said, motioning to the screen. "It's a bit confusing, something to do with a lullaby? Then it's just files upon files of heavily encrypted data."

"Huh."

"I have a lot of questions for when we get back." Nickelas held up his Scroll, "and it looks like we'll _have_ to wait. The service out here is extremely lacking."

"Huh…" Thyst repeated as he pulled on his boots. "Hey, I'm heading downstairs, you coming?"

"Yeah. Just a moment." Nickelas muttered, then he yawned. "I'm up for some breakfast."

Thyst opened the door and exited into the hall while Nickelas gathered his belongings and his wits. He paused a moment before the door across the hallway, then knocked on it.

"Who is it?" Magnolia's voice called from the other side.

"Just me." Thyst answered.

"You can come in." she responded. He did, pushing the door open slowly. Magnolia stood in the middle of the room, her back to the door, and the upper half of her floral kimono loosely around her waist. She tightened one final strap on the complex harness she wore underneath.

While dressed underneath, Thyst still averted his eyes instinctively, and focused instead on the bed to his right. Stick's long rifle and belt of Dust cartridges lay on it, placed in an somewhat organized manner, next to an array of tiny knives. Both beds were made up neatly, as if neither had been slept in the night before.

Magnolia pulled her kimono up over her shoulders and turned to Thyst.

"What did you need?" she asked

"Just making sure my team is awake..." Thyst answered as he peered around the room. "...where's Stick?"

"Stick went downstairs to find the innkeeper, he said he had something he wanted to talk to her about. Something to do with ' How much it'll cost to take it off her hands'." She recounted, taking a sip from a glass of water on her bedside table. "Please make sure he doesn't buy anything we really don't need…"

* * *

Thyst descended the stairs and swept his gaze around the tables for the last member of his team. He didn't see any sign of Stick, or the innkeeper for that matter, so he continued his search, resignedly emerging into the early morning heat, bearable, but dry.

He heard mumbling around the corner of the inn, and followed the sound. He peered around and watched as Stick handed a bundle of Lien to the Innkeeper. Out of the corner of his eye, Stick saw Thyst and beckoned him over.

The innkeeper passed Thyst with a "good morning", as he approached Stick, whose grin was clearly visible.

"Hey Thyst, good morning, I was thinking-" Stick started, but Thyst hushed him.

"Just tell me what you bought."

"Well, technically…" Stick began, putting his hand on a plastic drum, attached to a rusted cage of metal, "it's this water drum, and enough water to fill it."

"Why did you buy a tank of water? You know we can't carry that." Thyst asked, unamused.

"Well, Thyst, about that, look at what the water drum is attached to." Stick said, his grin growing.

"It's a rusted pile of metal, what of it? Thyst said. Stick stepped out of the way, and presented the pile of metal like a game show host presenting a new car. Because that's exactly what he was doing.

"It's a dune buggy. It's our ride home." he exclaimed, "the innkeeper used to have some of her employees make trips to the nearby freshwater spring with this thing, well, up until it broke down and she got a replacement," he pointed at a much cleaner vehicle, twenty or so feet to the left. "She was going to scrap this in a couple weeks anyway, so she said if I could fix it, then I could have it."

Thyst stared at him silently. He wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He'd seen Stick repair things in far worse condition before, and this would make their trip home a lot easier.

* * *

Breakfast wasn't anything special. Fried eggs, and bacon more akin to leather than anything else, but the four Huntsmen couldn't be any more grateful for it. After making short work of their meal, Stick pulled Nickelas aside, and brought him outside. After giving the same excited presentation from earlier to Nickelas, Stick was able to recruit him to help fixing up the old dune buggy. He had permission from the innkeeper (who they later learned to call Miss Danu), to use any tools in the box around the back of the building. They started with the engine, and got straight to work, in a flurry of commotion, full of determination, and more importantly, food. They would occasionally come back in, to request a glass of water, and then get right back to working.

Thyst pulled up a chair next to Magnolia, who was busy painting stroke after stroke of ketchup onto a stray napkin with her finger. She held it it up to him and asked him what he thought. The napkin possessed a perfect likeness to the Grimm they had just slain, or at least, as good as a portrait could be when made entirely of a condiment.

"Your art never ceases to amaze, Magnolia." he said with a smile.

They were silent for a while, before Magnolia turned her head towards Thyst.

"You really let him buy a car?"

* * *

The sun was sinking slowly over the horizon when Stick finally stood back and admired the six seat, four wheel drive masterpiece, that he and Nickelas had put all the work into, to bring it back from the dead. He wiped the sweat from his brow. The makeshift canopy of tarp they had set up could only block so much of the heat the sun gave them, so generously. Stick pulled up his gas mask and squatted next to the engine.

"Alright, Nick, kick it." he said, tossing a single key on an otherwise empty keyring to Nickelas. Nickelas slid the key in, and it went with little resistance. He turned the ignition and watched as the engine coughed, he turned it again, and it slowly sputtered to life, then started humming.

"Nice..!" Stick called over the sound of the engine, before rising, and swinging into the passenger seat. "Now let's make sure it _really_ works."

* * *

From inside, the inn-goers watched as Nickelas ripped past the front door in the restored buggy. Miss Danu looked up from the bar, and out the window.

"Well I'll be... they actually fixed that old piece'a crap…"

* * *

The engine eventually stalled and the buggy came to a gradual halt, coasting on its momentum. Stick called for them to switch seats, and once they had, he brought the rusted roll cage on wheels back to it's parking spot beside the building. Stick and Nickelas clambered out, standing tall with pride.

"You can head back in now if you want, Nick. I'll be in, in a while. I have a few final touch ups to make." Stick said, motioning towards the door with a tilt of his head. Nickelas knew what the final touch ups Stick was referring to were, and knew he had no place in them. He obliged Stick and headed in to Thyst and Magnolia.

Back outside, in the setting sunlight, Stick bent backwards, feeling his spine let out a series of cracks. He took a deep breath of the air, cooler now that the sun was departing. He placed his hand on one of the bars that made up the frame of the buggy, and ran it along the bar slowly, with a faint glow of turquoise light, he watched as the rust disappeared, and hints of the original color of the metal returned.


	4. ROAD TRIP (VI ChIV)

**[IV] Road Trip**

While the sun may have yet to break the horizon, its light leaked into the sky, and chased away the remaining stars. A few feet away, an engine hummed to life. Thyst was leaning on a railing outside the front of the inn, watching the sunrise. They had spent two days at Miss Danu's inn, but they still had to make it back to Vale, and back to Beacon.

"Stick has the engine running and says he's ready to go. You have everything together?" Nickelas asked as he joined Thyst on the railing. Thyst nodded.

"The perks of travelling light." He said, as he stood up from the railing.

"Hey now, boys, leaving so soon?" came Miss Danu's voice from the doorway. She had snuck up behind them with surprising skill, and had put a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Thank you for keeping us, miss, but we do have some pressing business back home." Thyst answered.

"You sure, friend? The signal might be mighty poor, but couldn't you at least stay to watch the Festival out here with us?"

Thyst felt a pang of guilt. At this point, the opening festivities of the Vytal festival would be underway shortly. If they could make good time on the trip back, then there was a chance Team TSNM could catch the final rounds. But he still felt bad, when he accepted this mission, he had expected to be back in time to register and compete, alongside his team, but, he hadn't accounted for this turn of events.

"Sorry miss, not at the moment. The headmaster is awaiting our return." Nickelas answered for Thyst.

"Oh, so you're still students? You do seem rather young now that you mention it…" she stopped herself, "So what does ol' Ozpin have you doing this far away from the city?"

Thyst and Nickelas looked at each other, unsure of who should answer, and there was an awkward moment of silence.

"Oh, what am I asking? I bet it's confidential, ain't it? _Top secret_ and some such." Miss Danu said with a long laugh. "Nevermind me, boys- Oh, but stay here a moment. I have something for you." She jogged inside and could be heard faintly from outside, rummaging about. After a minute or so, she reemerged with a bundle of cloth in her arms.

"Here, take it. You're gonna need something to eat on the road, ain'tcha? Consider it a gift." she said as he handed it off to Nickelas, "And please, know y'all're always welcome in our little town of Faroff. You and your mechanic buddy, especially, Nickelas, you two have some fix-it attitude we could really benefit from 'round here."

"Thank you, miss." Nickelas said, bowing his head in gratitude, before carrying the package to the where Stick and Magnolia waited, leaving Thyst and Miss Danu alone. Thyst thanked her again for her hospitality, then turned to leave. Before he could walk away, Miss Danu reached out and took his shoulder.

"A real small question, son, before you go." She said, in a hushed voice. "That earring you got, I've seen it before, I swear. You wouldn't happen- if you don't mind me asking- wouldn't happen to be part of one of those deep Vacuo nomad clans, now would you?"

Thyst paused a moment, but was glad someone asked. People rarely inquired about his heritage.

"I am. From Salamander." he answered, turning back to face her.

"Ah, so I was right!" she said excitedly, as she had solved the murder mystery of the year. "Thyst of Salamander, huh?" she asked, Thyst nodded. " Well those members of your clan I've met have been some real agreeable folk." She grinned, "Left some real good tips, too."

* * *

The relentless sun was noticeably easier to handle from inside a car, where the artificial wind of driving stripped the heat from their bodies. Stick sat behind the wheel, and laid his foot down on the gas pedal, relishing the open expanse, without a single spot of traffic to worry about. Magnolia had gotten in long before Thyst and Nickelas, earlier that day, and had been able to claim the passenger seat without the arbitrary name calling of _any_ type of firearm. Her hair flowed in the rushing air like a mass of snakes. Or at least she liked to imagine it did. Either way, it _was_ inarguably made wild by the wind.

In the back seats, which sat the riders down, facing inwards at each other, Thyst watched the dry bushes and yellowed grass rush past. Across from him, Nickelas had opened the cloth package and pulled out a piece of the leathery bacon jerky Miss Danu had packed for them. It wasn't the most delicious food, but Nickelas couldn't care less when his stomach told him he was hungry.

They encountered the occasional Grimm while traveling in the open, but none of the Grimm could match the speed of the buggy, so the team paid little attention to them, other than a few potshots from a bored Thyst.

After just a little over two days, and one campsite, the desert grasslands became greener as the the buggy passed into the foothills of distant mountains, then greener still as it became forest on the third day. The town of Faroff grew ever truer to it's name.

The day before now, Nickelas had noticed his Scroll was getting service again, and after plugging it into both his visor, and the backup battery he carried at all times, he was ready to stream the preliminary matches of the Vytal festival. Team TSNM would have prefered to have been able to watch it live, but this was an acceptable alternative.

They had tuned in just in time to watch the back and forth 4v4 match between Team ABRN, and Beacon's own Team RWBY. Word around the academy was that team RWBY's leader, the aptly named Ruby, was some kind of 14 year old prodigy. Her performance only proved these claims right.

* * *

The match between BRNZ and JNPR was entertaining, to say the least. JNPR's slow start couldn't prepare them for Nora (the short and spunky one) delivering a quadruple elimination with a single swing of her electrified warhammer. Stick made a joke about how she and Thyst were basically the same person because of the electricity and all, and while Thyst could list multiple reason to argue why that was _not_ true, instead he just smacked Stick lightly on the back of the head and said "no". Then laughed anyway.

Following the match between NDGO and SSSN, Thsyt pulled out his Scroll, and punched in a few numbers. The headmaster answered after two rings, and greeted the team he had dispatched days earlier in his usual pleasant voiced manner. Thyst got directly to business.

"Headmaster, I don't know what exactly it was that you sent us to get," he rolled the small metal chip over in his fingers as he spoke, and held it up to sky, "but we have it."

"Ah? Very good news indeed, Thyst. Thank you. I knew I could trust you, and your team."

"I would hope you could trust us, headmaster."

"Indeed, indeed, I do. I hope the recovery went without a hitch, even _with_ the Grimm?"

"Yeah…" Thyst said before pausing a moment, "We took the target down, but... with all due respect, Headmaster, it seems you knew that the Grimm was there, and you _didn't_ think to tell us? We nearly died."

"Would you believe me if I told you I forgot?" Ozpin asked. There was silence between them for a few seconds. "In any case, all things considered, I would say you've passed this test with more than just flying colors."

It was difficult to hear clearly over the rush of wind in the buggy, but Thyst thought he could hear the familiar voice of Glynda Goodwitch on the other end of the call. After a mumbled conversation between Ozpin and Glynda, the headmaster addressed Thyst again.

"You must excuse me, Thyst, Glynda tells me some of my associates have arrived and are making… quite a disturbance in my courtyard. I need to go down and greet them. If you can wait, I'll be sure to answer any questions you may have when you return. Your team has proven themselves ready, so answers is the least that I owe you." He paused, then his voice quickened, as Professor Goodwitch urged him to get in the elevator. "Ah, and one last thing, how many years has it been, Thyst? Three, I believe? You may call me Ozpin, you know I'm not one for all the formalities."

And with that, he ended the call.

* * *

They were close to Vale now, just barely a day outside of the city, in fact. They'd be back in time to watch the tail end of the Festival, which was better than not seeing it at all. Of course, by now batteries were wearing out, and the last thing they saw before Nickelas's Scroll died and went blank was the announcement for the match between Yang Xiao Long and Mercury Black. While they were a bit disappointed they might miss the match, surely they couldn't miss anything _that_ important.

Stick parked the buggy in a clearing in the forest, and they set up camp for the night. He walked around the back of the buggy and opened the tap on the water brum in the back. Water flowed out, and he let it fall directly into his mouth. Stopping the tap, he stood up and wiped his mouth of the renegade water droplets that had refused to get in his mouth. He let out a satisfied breath and turned to his team, who were finding comfortable places to sit.

"You know, once we get home, if I remove this water drum, we can replace it with a smaller one, maybe remove it completely? That'll open up a lot of space. We could fit, two maybe three more seats? I think that'd be neat." Stick rambled on, and his team members nodded quietly to appease his ramblings. They were all too ready for sleep.

* * *

Team TSNM set out before the sun rose the next day. If they didn't run into any obstacles, they could be back in their dorm by late afternoon, and that was an appealing thought. The hours passed quicker the closer they got to the city of Vale, and TSNM was more ready than ever to eat something other than bacon jerky. Not to mention, the next match was about to begin, and if Stick broke the speed limit, (which he was more than willing to do), then maybe they could watch this one live.

In the distance, the setting sun highlighted a fleet of Atlesian warships, little more than small dots against the sky. From the driver's seat, Stick noticed the familiar shapes of these dots, floating above the treeline. It wasn't long now until they were home. He slowed, but not quite enough to match the speed limit. The trees began to thin, and without the forest in front of them, the skyline of Vale rose rapidly from the ground.

* * *

The outskirts of the city were quiet, for the most part. Of course they were, nearly everyone had gone to Amity Coliseum, so it would be emptier than , however, couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Nickelas leaned forward and tapped Stick on the shoulder. He pointed down the road.

"Slow down, I'm seeing a couple people in the middle of the road, up ahead." he said, causing Stick to peer down the road, squinting.

"Those aren't people, Nick. Those are Knights. Probably just running security." Stick said.

"All the more reason to slow down, then." Nickelas responded. Stick realized he was still at least twenty miles per hour over the speed limit, and slowed to match it. The Knights turned, and shifted their focus as it drew closer.

"So do we need to show them any kind of identification? Are they programmed for that?" Magnolia asked.

"All we have to do is show that we aren't Grimm." Stick responded, keeping his eyes on the road, then he chuckled. "Just so long as they don't confused your hair for a Beowolf."

Magnolia pouted, but she wasn't all that worried. She may not trust the robots from Atlas, but she knew they weren't so ineffective that they'd mistake someone's hair for a Grimm… _or would they?_

Nickelas watched the featureless faces of the Atlesian Knights as they came closer, lifting their rifles. He assured himself it was just threat assessment, and didn't freak out.

Then the Knights opened fire.

"That's not threat assessment!" he yelled, then ducked behind the seat in front of him. "Get down!"

Magnolia and Thyst ducked behind the dashboard and driver's seat respectively, taking cover. Stick stayed upright, fearing that he might lose control of the vehicle, more than he feared getting shot. So he didn't budge as one of the projectiles struck him in the shoulder. While his Aura protected him for the most part, he still grunted in pain, before bracing himself against the seat and shifted gears.

"Hold on tight…" he yelled as he floored the gas pedal, taking the gunfire on headfirst. Projectiles ricocheted off the metal bars that made up the body of the buggy, as Stick shifted his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed down on the brakes, locking the back wheels, and swinging the entire buggy around, catching both Knights with the heavy back end of it. There was a crunch and a bump, as one of the Knights was caught under the sizable wheel, and was flattened. The second was knocked off it's feet and flung into the storefront of a nearby building. Stick put hand over hand on the wheel and realigned the buggy, accidently running the first Knight over a second time. He shifted into reverse, and the buggy didn't move at first, it's wheels spinning in place, smoking. Then it shot backwards and straight into the recovering Knight, slamming it once more into the building, and collapsing it's torso on impact. He shifted gears once more and put the buggy back on the road.

"So much for a secure perimeter." He sighed, then placed his arm on the passenger seat, and turned to face his team. "Now would someone kindly explain to me what the fuck just happened?"


	5. SCHOOL'S OUT (VI ChV)

**[V] School's Out**

The further into the Residential District they drove, the louder the screams, howls and gunfire grew. The echos from of the tightly packed buildings only making it worse. What could have possibly gone wrong in such a short amount of time? This is what Team TSNM wondered as they sped through the streets. Something had brought all these Grimm here, and it was probably the same thing that made the Atlesian Knights attack them at the edge of the Residential District. But whatever it was, it wasn't their concern. Their concern was here on the ground, fighting any Grimm they came across. And that's what led them to this intersection, in the middle of the city. Whatever the reason was, Grimm had congregated here, and civilians were fleeing in the every possible other direction. Stick pulled the buggy in close, and came to a halt. He let Thyst, Nickelas, and Magnolia exit, before he climbed on top of the cage of bars that made up the buggy's body, and sat with his rifle cradled in his arms. Thyst stepped down and refit his gauntlets to his arms, glad to feel their weight again. The blades rested on his inner forearms as hexagons once more. Metal clicked into place along Magnolia's tail, but more so, what she had hidden within her kimono, her body that bristled with knives. Nickelas was the last to exit, and he walked in front of both of them pulling his swords out, and loosening his wrists. He turned to face Thyst, Stick and Magnolia.

"I really just wanted to take a nap when we got back…" he said, and charged the blades' edges with harsh blue light.

Beowolves an Ursas ravaged the streets, while Griffons and Nevermores terrorized the sky, but TSNM held their ground. In the distance, Atlesian warships began to tumble from the sky, only adding to the chaos. The only thing keeping the corpses from piling up was the nature of a Grimm's death. Through the smoke, more Grimm came. The assault was relentless, but the Grimm's ferocity met it's match against these Huntsmen.

A Beowolf charged Nickelas, but he swung with one of his swords and sliced through it's front legs. As it fell, he swung down with his other and slashed through it's neck, the energy cloaked blade sizzling as it made a clean cut. He followed through with this motion, and spun in a circle. Then with the both blades, he slashed a second Beowolf across the abdomen, and it collapsed. He turned and slashed once behind him, and struck down a third Grimm with a wide slash across the throat.

Magnolia lept off the falling body of this same Grimm and threw a knife into the forehead of another Grimm, then another, and another, striking each Grimm with unnatural precision. She crouched when she landed and when she did, another Beowolf rose it's claw to swipe at her, but her footing shifted, and in a single fluid motion, she both deflected it's claw with the small shield on her tail, and drove one of her larger daggers through its lower jaw. She ducked, and unlodged the dagger as a disc flew past her, and dug, spinning into the chest of an Ursa, only a few feet from her.

An arc of electricity struck the spinning disc, and Thyst was running up the Ursa's body, dragging the chakram along with him and leaving a massive gash diagonally across the Grimm. With a bicycle kick, he knocked the Ursa's head upwards, and exposed it's neck. As expected, a small knife lodged itself in the opening within seconds of Thyst jumping off. He landed on the shoulders of a Beowolf and fired twice into it's skull, before leaping off, and vanishing in a flash of electricity once more.

An Ursa pounded on Nickelas's shield, trying it's very best to break the blue light in between the two curved pieces of metal. Try as it might, the shield held fast. From the Buggy, Stick leveled his rifle on the Ursa, but then both he and Nickelas watched as Thyst darted past, slashing along the Ursa's back, causing it to recoil momentarily. Just long enough for Nickelas to make his move. The energy projected within his shield vanished for an instant, and he pulled it back. He placed his hand on his opposing forearm and punched forward with the shield. It emitted a large pulse of white-blue energy, and sent the Ursa teetering back a few feet. With the Ursa stunned, Thyst turned, and spun on one foot, before pushing off the asphalt and slashing again across the Ursa's chest. Nickelas used the distraction to disconnect his swords and take them in either hand once more, closing the gap between him and the Ursa, before slashing striking with both swords and slashing a large glowing X into its torso.

Stick grew restless, sitting on top of the buggy. He knew Death Rattle's shots were few and far between, reserved for high-priority targets, but this was just getting boring.

This is why he wanted to attach a machine gun to the buggy. He sighed and leaned back on buggy's roll cage, looking into the night sky. His team was too good at what they did. He took mock aim at the Griffons flying overhead. He wasn't lying there for long, when he was distracted by a massive rumbling. It was almost as if an entire mountain was crumbling. He sat up quickly, spinning around.

"Hey guys… You, uh... might want to look up!" He yelled, to his teammates. "There's a fucking dragon!"

Magnolia turned excitedly from the corpse next to her,

"A dragon?" she asked.

Nickelas bashed a Beowolf's face in with the hilt of one of his swords, then dug the other one, hissing, into the side of its torso, he heard Stick yell, and he saw it. Then he looked up, and he really saw it.

Thyst stared up at the night sky, and watched a colossal Grimm came into view above him.

"Seriously?" He yelled into the night, "First the threshing... centipede...whatever, and now this!?"

Stick pulled up beside him in the buggy, Magnolia already sitting inside, and Nickelas standing upright in the back near the water drum.

"I know, right? Just our luck. Now get in." Stick suggested.

Stick navigated the maze of streets, Grimm, robots, and the soldiers and huntsman who were fighting them, as he followed the dragon from on the ground. He felt a surge of pride, or something like it, every time he saw a Huntsman, out of the corner of his eye, turn and stare at the buggy as it drove past. He knew they were likely wondering what the hell such an old vehicle was doing, with someone hanging off the side of it, tearing through the streets, and following a dragon that most probably meant certain death. But he liked to think they were impressed by his ride.

Stick had never realized until now how inconvenient it was to drive to Beacon. Everyone had always traveled by air anyway, so why would he have noticed? It's almost as if the academy was placed on a the sheer cliff of a lakefront purely for aesthetic value. Which he would have been entirely okay with, if he weren't actively pursuing a Grimm Dragon the size of a city block. The sounds of battle echoes across the courtyard of the the academy. intermingled with mechanical clamor was the sound of Grimm howling and of students cutting those howls short.

Thyst leapt off the moving vehicle, landing with a thump, and rolling on the grass. Once he was on his feet, he motioned Nickelas forward. They crouched behind a cement planter box, and Nickelas crept forward, around the raised soil container. He pushed his Semblence's range outwards around him and into the pathway. He studied the area briefly, then dived quickly back into cover. He pushed Thyst backwards and behind the planter box. A Paladin stomped past, running full tilt, towards Beacon's main tower. It looked new to Nickelas, who maintained an up-to-date knowledge on advancements in technology worldwide. A prototype, perhaps?

Stick came from behind them, and leaned excitedly over the cement wall of the planter box. He watched the Paladin round the corner, then he turned back to Thyst, Nickelas and Magnolia.

"I want one of those." He whispered.

By the time Team TSNM had gathered their wits and made their way into the center of Beacon's campus, the setting had grown eerily quiet. Stick felt bad as he watched another Atlesian warship get torn apart by Griffons and fall into the city. He reminded himself war had casualties, and he couldn't dwell on them all. He walked along the stone path casually, Death Rattle resting against his shoulder. He tapped the head of Knight with his foot, then finding his footing, delivered a swift kick. The Knight, like the others around it, was motionless in a heap on the ground with no noticeable signs of damage. At some point in the battle, the demise of one of the warships seemed to be have been beneficial, at least. Without their control center, Atlesian AI was little more than an empty husk.

Nickelas pushed his field of view around and through the academy's buildings. It was sheer luck that they found themselves standing directly in the eye of the storm. It was a good thing too. They hadn't made any plan on how to deal with the wyvern, (which Magnolia informed them, due to its wing structure it was a not a dragon, but a wyvern), and this lull in combat provided them with some time to think. And on top of it all, atop the tower, the wyvern had perched itself, unmoving, which made their job even easier. Out of his peripherals, he listened to his teammates.

"...is pretty up there… you know, I wonder which one of us could get it's attention first?" Stick muttered, walking past Thyst.

"Is that a bet?" Thyst asked.

"Do you want it to be?" Stick asked, but before he could finish his sentence, Thyst was making a beeline towards the tower. Magnolia sighed. Stick turned to her and shrugged.

"There, see? I solved step one. Now we'll get the wyvern's attention."

Thyst was approaching the tower when he felt a rush of wind pushing down on him. He watched as the wyvern lifted off the tower and spread its wings in flight. As he watched the Grimm, Stick walked up behind him, toting Death Rattle. Thyst turned to meet him.

"Any rules?" Thyst asked.

"If it's on the tower, fifty lien. If either of us can get it in air, then I'm doubling the wager." Stick answered, sorting through his wallet. "I'll give you a fifteen second head start, since Death Rattle makes this a little unfair, for you." he said, lifting his rifle to present it.

"I'll only need ten." Thsyt stated, with a confident smirk.

"Hey, and look, it's already coming back." Stick said.

Indeed, come back it did. A little too fast, they realized, a moment too late being distracted by their bet. They stood still and watched as the Grimm flew full force into the tower. A shockwave erupted from the building, and tore the air apart, staggering both of them. Thyst lost his grip on one of his weapons. Rubble fell around them in deadly heaps, only narrowly failing to crush them both, as they stumbled in the grass.

Once Stick got his feet situated under him, he looked up at the broken tower.

"Alright, then..." he said, brushing debris out of his hair.

Thyst stood up next to Stick, then checked both of his weapons quickly. His gauntlets of metal were scratched, but that wasn't anything new. One blade was folded into a hexagon attached to his right forearm. The left arm however, was missing it's blade. He looked around, and after a moment he saw the familiar disc of thin metal stuck in the soil two or so feet away from him. He walked over and leaned down to pick it up. When he looked up, a white kimono greeted him. He traced the gold lining on it up, and it let him directly to Magnolia's face. She was standing an arm's length away from him, Nickelas a few feet behind her. When Nickelas caught up, he wasted no time to begin talking.

"Maybe we can forget the wyvern, guys?" he suggested, "Evacuations are underway, as we speak. Unless we plan to fight that thing alone," he pointed to the wyvern "then we need to go. It would be a lot more beneficial if we helped the evacuation effort."

Thyst watched as Magnolia nodded behind him. If Magnolia agreed with Nickelas, then she believed there was no feasible way they could combat this Grimm, and that it was likely time to retreat.

"Unlike last time, Stick doesn't have an airship to crash, so I don't think we have any good plans of attack." Nickelas continued. He turned to the tower, "And I know for a fact that unlike you guys, I can't climb-" He cut himself off and squinted his eyes. Was he seeing things? He took off his visor and looked again. "Is anyone else seeing those circles?" he asked.

"Schnee glyphs." Stick answered. Nickelas watched as a line of them stretched up the tower.

"As in... Weiss Schnee?" He asked, but there was no answer. Instead, he watched a blur of red dash up the tower, following along the path of the glyphs.

Thyst watched the red shape scale the tower. That couldn't possibly be who he thought it was, could it? Very impressive for a team of first years.

There was a flash of pure, bright whiteness, and all of team TSNM, save for Magnolia, averted their eyes.

* * *

 _[Prototypical Footnote]_

 _If you've made it this far, then thanks for sticking around. (ha, get the joke?)_

 _I hope you're enjoying the story so far, there's still a lot to come._

 _ **RWBY and all characters and locations within RWBY are legal property of Rooster Teeth, use of their intellectual property is done solely for entertainment. All other characters appearing in TSNM: Second Verse are property to Prototypical (that's me), and the small devout crew of friends helping me make this story better than I could ever do on my own.**_


	6. TRAILER PARK (VI ChVI)

**[VI] Trailer Park**

Thyst emerged from the world of electric light, dashing through the ruins of Beacon. He gazed up at the fallen tower as he ran, staring at the wyvern solidified at the top. After bringing about the destruction of the academy, the mysterious Grimm had become a beacon itself, attracting a seemingly endless number of Grimm.

A low growl snapped Thyst's eyes forward once more. A Beowolf lowered itself onto its haunches, then lunged forward at him. Mid-leap, Thyst slipped back into his bright electric world. He darted forward through the air in an instant, then emerged once more into the darker physical world. He kicked off the back of the Beowolf's head and flipped forward in the air. As he hung upside down in the air, he raised his left arm. On it was a gauntlet of purple tinted metal. A sharp bladed hexagon was attached to the inside of his forearm, and two gun barrels peeked out above his wrist. He fired a single shot from one of the barrels, hitting the nape of the Grimm's neck.

Thyst landed a few steps away and stumbled to regain his footing, skidding on the cobblestones of the pathway. He pressed his hand to the ground and pushed up, lifting off the ground a few inches. When his boot hit the ground once more he quickly regained his stability and tore off into a sprint.

The Grimm who prowled the ruins around him turned their attention to the gunshot as it echoed and reverberated off of the empty buildings.

Thyst extended his arms and took both sharp hexagons in his grip. He drove his heel into the ground and spun around in place. As he spun, he released the hexagon from his left hand, and it curved through the air in a graceful arc, then dug into the shoulder of a Beowolf who howled in pain. Thyst continued his spin, rotating a second time. A Beowolf lunged to snap at him, but Thyst caught it mid-air with his second weapon. The only thing the Grimm bit down on was the cold metal of Thyst's unfolded warglaive in its toothy maw. He yanked the warglaive out of the Grimm's mouth, letting it fall as the warglaive collapsed once more into a hexagon. Shifting his grip on the chakram, he tossed it spinning into the air, where it crackled with static as it spun. While it flew upwards, Thyst used both free hands to load a faintly blue glowing dart onto his right forearm. He aimed at the pack of Beowolves as they gathered around the Grimm that currently had Thyst's other chakram in its shoulder. They snarled as they turned from the wounded Grimm to face Thyst, but their snarling was drowned out by the sudden roaring behind him.

Thyst rolled his eyes and leaned his head back, looking directly into the murderous red eyes of an Ursa. He looked up at the chakram he had thrown into the air. It was still a ways up there, and had time to fall. He sighed and pushed off the ground, leaping into the air before spinning and delivering a hard roundhouse to the Ursa's jaw. The Ursa's head whipped upwards as Thyst landed on the ground. In a flash of motion, Thyst punched upwards with his left hand and fired a total of five bullets through the Ursa's head. He then turned to the oncoming Beowolves. Quickly leveling his right arm, he fired a single dart and it loosed quietly, just as the chakram Thyst had thrown earlier dropped in front of it. In that brief moment, it passed directly through the center of the weapon. The Chakram was fully electrified as the bolt passed through the hexagonal gateway, it was struck by a multitude of tiny arcs of lightning and it's speed was doubled. It accelerated towards the oncoming pack of Beowolves, where it struck against the Grimm in the center. The same Grimm that Thyst's chakram was deeply embedded in. The Grimm tensed up and collapsed as if it had been shocked by a taser. Then, like a tesla coil, the chakram in it's shoulder began letting loose arcs of deadly lightning which struck the tightly packed Grimm around it. They all fell smoking into motionless heaps.

Thyst leaned down to retrieve the chakram in front of him, which he re-fit to his inner forearm as he walked. Once he reached the black cloud that used to be the Beowolves, he lifted his other chakram and slid it into place. He took a deep breath and took off running again. He had somewhere to be.

People sometimes asked him why his weapon was outfitted with as many forms and functions as it was, and he answered every time a little differently.

Versatility, Simplicity, Adaptability, and other similar buzzwords. Thyst of Salamander lived life like it was a test, seeking to answer the eternal question;

"How can I do better?" His weapons were Garuda and Indra, and they were his Talons. They were a crucial part of his very being.

Thyst sprinted alongside the former dormitories, and looked up at to the row of windows that made up the third floor. Taking note of the speed he was running, he jumped into the air and, in an instant, he was back in the world of electric light. He rocketed upwards and came to a halt, slipping back into the darker world while suspended in midair. It seemed to be that his momentum had run out. On his back, under his deep purple coat, a small turbine whirred. He felt it click, the back-up charge was ready, and just in time. He pulled the energy from it and entered the world of electric light once more, surging forward and shattering through the glass and into what was his team's former academy dormitory. After a quick search, he found the large duffle bag Stick kept far under his bed, and slid it out into the middle of the room. It was empty, but it wouldn't be that way for long.

Once Thyst had put as much of his team's belongings into the unnaturally spacy bag, he climbed up and onto the windowsill. With the bag slung over his back, he held onto the side of the window frame and stared out over the ruins. To think this had been a fully functional school only days ago.

He leaned forward, fell, and entered a world of electric light.

* * *

The rectangle of bright daylight was cut off by a heavy metal door slamming shut, which startled Stick. Of course, the door would be practically rusted shut and taken far too much effort just to open, but the moment he let go, the thing closed like a bullet train. He gathered his wits and straightened out his harness. What a decrepit old warehouse this was. He could watch the dust drift lazily through the air, highlighted by the beams of light that filtered through the foggy skylight windows that hadn't been cleaned in years. Though, Stick knew how it was. When someone thought "extremely successful, (albeit, illegal) arms dealer" they didn't think "worn down factory in the abandoned section the Industrial District." And that was one of the many factors that kept the cops off the person he had come to see.

Stick navigated the graveyard of abandoned machinery. He walked carefully, knowing the soles of his boots would provide little protection against an errant rusty nail. This was a maze of tetanus just waiting to happen. Stick came across a conveyor belt and followed it until he found himself near the opening to a hallway and walked quietly down it. At the end of the hallway, he came to a door made of metal, with a small glass window reinforced with little x's of metal wire. A window was something Stick could spy through, so he did. On the other side the dust was just as thick as in the room before. He squinted and scanned the room. Through crates and shelving units he could barely make out the office he was looking for. Oddly though, not the two men that were usually standing on either side of it.

Stick pushed the door open slowly without a sound. Until it squeaked and then groaned, before it was essentially screaming bloody murder. He gave up and flung it open. He caught it on the return swing, and pushed it gently to its original position. He refused to let another door get the best of him. Shifting Death Rattle to his other shoulder, Stick paced through the not-so empty warehouse, navigating stacks of very new, very full boxes. He had a better idea of what was inside them than he would have hoped, but he continued on through the chest high crates. He rounded a corner and came across the answer to where the two men went. Slumped against the wall were two men in suits, their hair shaved extremely short. Their suit jackets were open and instead of a fabric vest over their dress shirts, they each wore a bullet resistant one. The man on the left was bleeding from his right arm, but he sat up tall against the wall. When he saw Stick approaching he dropped the makeshift bandage he was tying around his upper right arm and picked up his dropped rifle with his remaining good arm.

"Put the weapon down! And don't come any closer, man, I won't hesitate to pull this trigger."

Stick put Death Rattle down slowly against the wall and raised both his hands, showing the injured man he wasn't armed. The man stared at him blankly, then with labored breaths, his head fell towards his lap. His rifle clattered to the floor. Stick picked up Death Rattle and approached the two slumped men. They both appeared to be unconscious. Stick checked for pulses, and after finding both, he quickly took the bandage from the bleeding man's lap and fixed it around the wound on the same man's arm. He then stood up and looked at the door. There was a window on it, but it was made of that frosted glass that made it impossible to see anything but muted shapes through.

Stick could hear mumbling and muffled threats from the other side of the door. He reached for the knob, then stopped himself. Lifting his hand away, he reached out for the three hinges on the door instead.

Stick took a finger and ran it along each of the door's hinges, slowly. Fine turquoise cracks formed along them as he did. Once Stick was done with the last hinge, he stood up, and took a step back from the door. With Death Rattle gripped firmly in his left hand, he stepped forward and rammed his other foot into the door, sending it flying off it's hinges and into the interior of the office. Inside were two men. One man, with greenish grey hair, sat at gunpoint behind an oak wood desk, a cigarette still burning between his lips. He was a short man, but a sturdy one. His assailant was tall, matching Stick's own 6'2" stature, and had a complete lack of hair, save for the kind of moustache only found on bikers. He was surprised to see a door fly past him, and into the desk, where his hostage sat, unfazed. He whipped around to face whatever had blown off the door, and pointed his handgun at the figure who came through the doorway. The m9 styled weapon was small in his massive hands. To the man's surprise, the figure was little more than a boy, just a kid. There was no way he was any older than twenty.

"Hey kid, drop the weapon and leave, I have business with this man." the assailant said, with a voice that was impressively deep. "Whatever trick you just pulled, I'm not impressed, so you'd better get going before I put a bullet in your sk-" he caught a glimpse of two silver earring, then saw a flash of turquoise in the settling dust. Before he could react, a fist came out of the cloud and connected with a crack against his jawline. He staggered and fell to his hands and knees. Damn, this kid could punch. He went to push himself up off the ground, but before he could, Stick took Death Rattle in both hands, and with a swift strike from the butt of the rifle to the back of the man's head, the bald man's head collided with the ground. There was a crunch as his nose broke against the floor tiles. Then he was still.

Stick switched his grip on Death Rattle with the casual demeanor of switching grips on a broom while sweeping.

"Oi, if isn't the ol' Chaperone! Long time to see." the man with green-grey hair said, removing his cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Thanks for savin' my ass." he said almost gleefully. "...again." he added with quiet contempt. "So how's the family? They good?" he asked.

Stick looked up from the unconscious man on the floor tiles.

"Cut the pleasantries, Reed," Stick said, "and tell me who the guy is that I just knocked unconscious."

"Oh, it may or may not be an enforcer sent to… reclaim… a certain crate of items I may or may not have swindled out from under the nose of a certain Alighieri during our most recent deal... You know how life is." Reed answered. Stick knelt down and searched the fallen man's body. His handgun lay on the ground next to him. Stick picked it up and looked it over. It was some variant of an m9 model. The barrel was a thumb's length longer than the average handgun's barrel, and the open slide that matched the barrel's length was made of reflective metal, rather than the dull black of similar handguns. Stick picked the weapon up and handled it. The grip was simple, and made of dark, glossy wood.

"That's one'a them," Reed said, watching Stick. "One'a them 'items' I may or may not owe to them." As Reed said this, Stick was busy patting down the unconscious man. He found the weapon's holster, and stripped the man of it. Reed continued, " 's got some kinda fetish for old weapons. I'm sure you've see his personal store room, practically a museum of the Great War."

"You know, he used to like you, Reed." Stick said, as he slid the pistol back into the holster and tossed it onto Reed's desk. Reed only shrugged.

"Business is business." He said. "...I got a better offer."

"Where'd you find these weapons?" Stick asked, changing the subject as he searched the man's pockets.

"Small base up north on Solitas." Reed answered. "My boys and I were on our way back from a pretty large deal up near Mantle, and we came across the place. Not the first time we've found profit in abandoned bases, full of surplus weapons." There was silence for a few moments.

"A real shame too, the thing was just a refueling station. We only made it off that island with a measly two crates." He held up two fingers. "You shoulda seen the Grimm that jumped us, a real big son of a bitch. Lost most of the men I brought down with me. Thing came outta nowhere, some kinda Beowolf, I supposed, but the damn thing had six legs!" Reed exclaimed, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Stick was intrigued, but didn't show it. He held a wallet up for Reed to see. "I'm sure paid a lot to get these guns from you." Stick rummaged through the wallet, coming across a sizable amount of lien. "And in advance, no less." Stick paused briefly. "I'm taking this."

"For what?" Reed asked, snuffing his cigarette out against his desk. "Evidence? Don't go thinking I haven't heard the rumors my boys have been telling me, Stick. You really have become a Hunstman, huh?" Reed inquired, his words laced with biting accusations. "You know, I never took Stick Brinewater to be the righteous type, who gets off to that twisted fuck of a dominatrix people like to call Lady Justice."

Stick removed a few cards from the wallet and stood up, unamused.

"No, as payment." He said, tossing the cards onto the unconscious man's chest and pocketing the remainder of the wallet. Then he approached Reed's fine oaken desk. "You owe me for letting your sorry ass live another day. I'm feeling nice. So I'll take the lien, and we'll call it even." He pulled something small from his pocket and placed it on the desk. It was a small, black poker chip, marked with $500, and accented with alternating lines of iridescent green. "...for today."

Reed stared at the chip, then laughed to himself.

"But you're still the same ol' Chaperone I know and love."

Stick let his hand rest on the desk next to the poker chip.

"I didn't save you 'cause I like you, Reed. I saved you because if you were dead, you couldn't repay the favor you owe me."

* * *

Nickelas walked down the streets of the Residential District. He flipped down his visor and look at the address he had written down. Building number 312, room 207. He turned his head to the right and looked at the building on his side of the sidewalk. 308. He was getting closer. It took Nickelas about fifteen seconds to make it to building 312, and when he did, he looked up at it. Building 312 was an apartment complex, a simple cement edifice, with plenty of balconies. Each balcony gave a subtle hint about the lives of the people inside. Nickelas scanned the second floor balconies, and wondered which belonged to room 207. He pushed open the door to the lobby, and a few heads turned, but not many, as the sight of a Huntsman was not all that uncommon in the city of Vale. What was about to happen wasn't a team affair, to Nickelas. It was something more personal. He found a elevator and got in, pushing the "2" button and watching the doors close.

For Nickelas, everything was personal. He wasn't fighting just Grimm, or the occasional criminal. He was fighting anyone and anything that could be and was making this world a worse place. He was fighting anyone and anything that sought to hurt innocent people. He pulled out a pair of wire-frame glasses, a single lens on them broken. After what happened with his family… he held the glasses tightly in his hand, careful not to break them before putting it away. It's the reason he was a Huntsman. His Semblence was a gift, something that made him aware of the world around him, and it obligated him to make that world a better place. Argent, his swords and his shield, were to protect the innocent, and to strike down those who sought to harm them.

The elevator dinged, and opened. Nickelas entered the hallway and checked the plaque on the wall for directions. Room 207 was down the hall, to the right. He walked with purpose. He had come to be aware of a threat within Room 207. Earlier in the day, around mid-morning, a young mother had approached him on the street, seeing he was Huntsman, and hushedly begged for help. According to her report, a small gang of White Fang had made a meeting place out of Room 207, only two doors down from her own apartment. She feared for the safety of her two children.

Nickelas detached his swords from his hips as he approached the doorway. As he reached for the door, he paused, hearing a door open down the hall. An old man, balding, but with bushy eyebrows, stepped out into the hall. He saw Nickelas and immediately turned around, and went back into his apartment, closing the door behind him. Nickelas turned his attention back to Room 207's door.

He pushed his Semblence out, and under the apartment door. It slipped in with ease, and rapidly mapped out the inside of the apartment room. Five figures. Weapons. A couch.

Nickelas knocked on the apartment door. He followed the hazy shape of a figure as they approached the door. Nickelas fit his swords together into a shield, and the glowing blue wall of energy contained neatly inside its metal outline took shape.

The figure on the other side of the door leaned in and leered through the peephole.

"Shit..!" Nickelas heard the figure's feminine voice hiss. "It's a Huntsman."

Nickelas watched as the four other hazy figures began shuffling for their weapons in the main room.

"Then waste him!" a second voice hissed from deeper in the room. The figure at the door lifted a rifle, leveled it at the door, and opened fire. Bullets ripped through the wooden door and into Nickelas's shield, which absorbed the force of the shots with ease. The rifle's entire magazine was empty before the figure stopped firing. In the brief respite, Nickelas lifted his shield and slammed it forward, fast. It collided with the damaged door, and a pulse of blue caved the door inwards, shattering it into a shower of splinters. The figure directly behind the door was launched into the the apartment, and landed on the couch, knocking it backwards, and tipping it over. Nickelas's shield buzzed, then whirred, and the wall of light reappeared in the center if the shield.

Nickelas stepped over the shattered door and into the room. He stood where the female White Fang had been standing a moment before. Had she really just opened fire into the hallway of an apartment? Didn't she realize what she was doing?

Who was Nickelas kidding, the White Fang were terrorists. They didn't care. He stepped into the main room, and a second White Fang began shooting at him with a pistol. Nickelas approached with his shield raised, and blocked the projectiles. He ran up to the shooter, punched him in the chest, then spun around as a third White Fang swung her sword at him. The shield parried the sword swing and sent the weapon spiraling across the room. He turned back to the man he'd punched in the chest. He was bent over and catching his breath. Nickelas elbowed him in the head, sending him sprawling across the floor. The faunas he had disarmed growled and popped a set of claws, behind him. She swung twice, but Nickelas ducked under both swings, then leapt forward, catching her with his shoulder and knocking her backwards. The fourth man swung downward, and Nickelas sidestepped the attack. His shield disengaged it's connection and separated into two halves. Nickelas flipped one sword over his head, and grabbed it out of the air. Taking a sword in either hand, he lifted them both and caught a second downward swing between two heated glowing blade edges.

The cheap metal of the White Fang's sword began sinking into the dual blades of Nickelas's swords, and it's wielder pulled it back, in astonishment. He looked up just in time to see the silver haired Huntsman swing  
one of his swords in a wide horizontal slash. The White Fang lifted his weapon to block, but the Huntsman's blade passed through the damaged weapon like it was a stick of butter left in the sun. The searing pain in his upper arm sent him to the ground screaming in pain.

Nickelas watched the man collapse, his broken sword's blade bouncing harmlessly off the wooden floor. The man was clutching his arm, just below the shoulder, where Argent had bitten into his flesh. He looked at the man with pity, then he heard a rifle safety click behind him.

"I know you're behind me" Nickelas said. "You can't sneak up on me."

The remaining White Fang swallowed nervously. "Then… Uh… y-you know I have a gun pointed at your head, don'tch, kid?" The White Fang's voiced stuttered out. "I'll blow your brains out." he laughed as the rifle shook in his hands. "One less of you oppressive fucke-"

As the White Fang stammered his threat, the Huntsman moved suddenly, spinning about and swinging his sword. The White Fang flinched and pulled down on the trigger of his rifle. He hadn't been hit, by some miracle. Then he realized his rifle wasn't firing. He panicked. He had remembered to undo the safety right? Of course he had! He opened his eyes and looked down. His rifle was cleaved clean in half. His eyes widened, and he looked up.

Nickelas swept the legs out from under the White Fang and held the tip of his sword at the downed terrorist's throat. He was young. About the same age as Nickelas.

"Take your friends, and leave." Nickelas said calmly. "I don't want to ever find you anywhere near this place again." He said, as the White Fang nodded nervously in compliance. "If I do, then that wound on your buddy's shoulder will be the least of your worries."

After he knew the White Fang would comply, Nickelas kicked him in the gut so he folded over, and walked out of the apartment full of groaning terrorists.

Nickelas Mirino was giddy with excitement, and a grin spread across his face as he stepped into the elevator. He felt like a total badass. The elevator doors closed with a ding.

* * *

The joyful tingle of the convenience store door opening normally made the storekeeper smile, as repetitive and annoying as it could be at times, it was almost always the herald of someone, be it adults or children, humans or faunas. He watched the city live it's life, and had practically memorized the breathing patterns of this great living machine. The machine of the city had slowed since the attack only days ago, but this shopkeeper was determined to stay open. To be there for his small corner of the city. Daily parts of the great city would enter his store, and he greeted each and every one of them with a friendly smile. This afternoon however, his smile was a nervous one. There was a gun pointed to his temple, and he was currently putting lien from his register, into a stranger's backpack. The man behind the gun told him work faster, and he did. This was not worth dying over. He had a family. He knew this guy, the person trying to rob him was just another man, trying to support himself. He fully understood why he resorted to this crime during the chaos of rebuilding the city. If his shop had been destroyed during the attack, then he might have done the same to keep his family fed.

Just then the door's bell tinkled a second time. Both men's heads snapped to the new arrival, but the gun stayed pointed at the shopkeeper's head. The robber started to panic, he was going to lose control of the situation. The figure pushed through the door and stepped into the corner store. Her hair was long, and white, and she wore a pair of deeply tinted, round sunglasses. As she entered the store, she placed her hand on a shelf to guide herself. The man with the gun noticed her snake-like tail as it stuck out of her knee length, flowing sweater. It swished along the ground, probing a few inches in every direction. She seemed to be blind. His worry faded. She couldn't see what was happening.

He turned back to the shopkeeper and motioned to her with his head.

"You gonna say hello to her? Or do you want your head splattered across the cigarette case? Oh, hey, while you're at it, give me one of those." he threatened in a whisper. The shopkeeper complied, reaching for a pack of cigarettes. As he did, he gulped quietly then called out to the young woman.

"Hello, miss! Can I help you with anything?" he said, as he handed the man the pack of cigarettes.

"Oh, hello!" the young woman responded cheerily. "Actually yes, you wouldn't mind showing me where iced tea is? I'm dreadfully thirsty…"

The man with the gun motioned to the woman, with his gun.

"Go on man," he whispered, "you're a gentleman aren'tcha?"

The shopkeeper stepped carefully out from behind the counter. He felt a weight lifted from him, the moment the gun was no longer pointed at his forehead. He approached the young woman and held his arm out, to guide her. She took it graciously and stepped across the store with him. In the meantime, the man with the gun was lighting a cigarette and placing it between his lips. A quick smoke to calm him down, then once the pitiful shopkeeper finished unloading the register, he was out of here.

"Right here, miss." the shopkeeper said, as he brought the young woman to the refrigerator that held his supply of iced tea. He reached in and took out a tall can for her, which she took with a smile.

"Now let's ring you up." the shopkeeper said. "The register's this way. The young woman stood at the counter, seemingly unaware of the armed robber standing little more than two feet away from her. The shopkeeper, behind the counter once more, gave the young woman her total and she searched for her wallet.

"I'm sorry," she said, rummaging through her various pockets. "I can't seem to find my lien…" She reached into the inside of her long sweater.

"Hurry up, you fucking half-breed…" the armed man said under his breath.

"There it is!" she exclaimed. Then she drove a small, straight bladed knife into the robber's thigh. He looked down and screamed in pain. Then his screaming was cut short by a knife handed jab to his throat. He lost his grip on his handgun and clutched his throat. Then with her other hand, the blind woman clutched the back of his head, and slammed it downward onto the countertop. The woman wrapped her tail around the stunned man's ankle and yanked his leg out, and he fell backwards onto the ground.

Magnolia Gorgos leaned over the fallen man.

"Now, sir, you should know that name calling is just plain rude…" she scolded. She removed the small knife from the man's leg, and he gave another yelp of pain, before she stood up. She reached into her skirt pocket and removed her wallet, placing the lien she owed for the iced tea next to the register. The shopkeeper stood in stunned silence, and watched as the young woman cracked the seal on the can before taking a sip.

"Don't you worry, sir. Your friend here won't be moving for about an hour."

She tapped the tip of her small knife. "Do what you will with him." she said, pulling her sunglasses off, and putting them in one of her inner pockets. Without opening her eyes, she removed a band of cloth from the same pocket, and tied it around her head, over her closed eyes. "Ah… Much better." She said, as walked once more through the door to its usual joyful tingle.


	7. NOT A VACATION (VI ChVII)

**[VII] Not A Vacation**

Surely there was some sentimental value that brought her team back here at the end of every day, Magnolia thought as she sat cross legged in the long shadow of the tree. The leaves above her head were fading quietly into orange as autumn embraced the tree's branches. A few strides away, the ground gave way to the sheer drop of a cliff overlooking a large, calm body of water. To her left, the hollow remains of Beacon glowed with an aura granted to it by the sun that rested low in the dusk sky. Even those who considered themselves logical and analytical, Magnolia knew that they often found themselves guided by the (normally) unseen whims of the soul. There was a reason her team to set up a camp along the edge of the former Huntsman academy, even with the all the Grimm nearby. Granted, Magnolia noticed there weren't a great many places within the city for the team of four after the events that had taken place recently. More than enough citizens of Vale had been displaced as their homes and businesses had been damaged or destroyed. Local apartments and hotels, and even private businesses that hadn't been utterly destroyed, did all they could opening their doors to the now homeless, and their rooms filled quickly. Her team was used to sleeping outside, so they made no complaints at the thought of it.

Magnolia pressed the cool metal of the can's rim to her lips, and with a final tilting of her head, finished the chilled ice tea. She marvelled at the ingenuity of people sometimes. Even after she had walked all this way from the Commercial District, and her choice encounter with city crime, the drink was still as cold as when it had come out of the corner store's refrigerator. A year or two ago - she couldn't remember precisely how many months it had been - Nickelas had explained to her how the metal alloy used in the can was produced with trace amounts of ice Dust crystals. This production method gave the container the ability to maintain the low temperature of the beverage inside for an almost absurdly long period of time once removed from a chilled storage.

In her mind, she silently thanked Nickelas for telling her, but said nothing even as he sat only two feet from her. She didn't want to sound weird thanking him suddenly for something he had done so long ago. Not to mention the fact that he was already mentally buried in the laptop in front of him, seemingly hard at work on something. The laptop reminded her to make a mental note to thank Thyst, however. Only a day after the Fall of Beacon, Thyst had gone alone into the ruins to retrieve the belongings of his team from their former dorm room. Her sketchpad was only back in her hands where it belonged thanks to Thyst. One could never say "thank you" enough.

It had been almost two weeks now since the city had been attacked and the academy had fallen. The progress made towards recovery was astounding to Magnolia. She had seen teams split up and go their separate ways after the attack, but that wasn't even a thought that crossed her mind, or the minds the three around her. They still had a job to finish, and if anything could be said about team TSNM, it was that when they had a job they finished it.

Magnolia stood up and walked over to Thyst, who stood peering over the edge of the cliff at the small ripples in the water far below. He bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet. As she approached, he turned to her.

"Any luck with Professor Goodwitch?" he asked. Magnolia shook her head.

"Unfortunately not." she answered. "I was able to track her down, but she brushed me aside when I tried to speak with her."

For the most part, the past few days had been spent attempting to come in contact with Professor Goodwitch. After Ozpin's disappearance, Goodwitch had been forced to temporarily assume his position as headmaster. Their operation wasn't complete until they had reported in to her.

"It's almost as if she feels obligated to repair the entire city by herself." Nickelas contributed, approaching suddenly with his laptop folded under his arm. "I don't think we're going to get to her any time soon."

Thyst's foot tapped against the ground.

"I don't like all this waiting." Thyst said. "If Stick's… rumors... are anything to go on, then there's another Grimm out there like the one we encountered, and I don't like the thought of leaving it alive." Thyst said and looked at Nickelas, who nodded.

"If it's supposedly as dangerous as Stick claims his informant says it is, then I think a rumor is enough to justify us going." Nickelas said, "And I want answers. These damn Lullaby files aren't giving me anything of worth."

"I would think it's our duty to at least investigate the rumors," Magnolia added, before turning to walk away.

She walked towards Stick's buggy parked a stone's toss away, a safe distance from the cliff, at the base of one of the airship docks. In the driver's seat, Stick sat reclined, glancing repeatedly from his watch to the sky above the abandoned academy.

"Stick!" Magnolia called out to get his attention. He looked up, and noticed her approaching. Magnolia held up the empty iced tea. "Have a can." she said, holding it out to him, as she drew closer.

"Oh. Thank you." Stick said, taking the hollow metal cylinder. He examined the can a moment. With both hands, he crushed the can, and his palms glowed a faint blue-green. After a moment, he opened his hands and revealed the new contents. In one hand he held a round plate of metal, and in the other, a few small light blue crystals. "Every little bit helps, I suppose." He said, as he reached for a pouch on the rear of his belt. He took a small container out of the pouch and placed the crystals inside of it, before returning the container to the pouch. He glanced at his watch again.

Thyst leaned in the passenger side of the buggy and Stick turned his attention to Thyst. He noticed Nickelas standing a foot or so behind him.

"Where'd your friend say this supposed Grimm was?" Thyst asked.

"On a island of the coast of Solitas, near Mantle. Around another abandoned base, no less." Stick answered, he looked at his watch. "It's too perfect a coincidence if you ask me."

"And you didn't mention Hourglass at any point to him?" Thyst asked.

"I didn't say much at all." Stick answered. "He did most of the talking."

"Huh." Thyst muttered, and silence filled the space between them. "Think you can find us a way to Solitas?" Thyst asked.

"And Goodwitch?" Stick asked in return. "You know you're breaking chain of command, right?"

"We've wasted a week already on chain of command. We're dealing with this threat." Thyst answered without hesitation. "Now."

"Then, yes. I can get us a ride to Solitas." Stick said, as he stepped out of the buggy, and glanced at his watch once more. "This is why I like you, Thyst." he said, as he walked past and climbed the nearby metal ramp, with a casual gait. He walked onto the large circle of metal that Beacon used as a landing zone and his teammates followed him with their eyes. When he reached the edge of the landing pad, he stopped. For a while the four young Huntsmen stood in awkward silence. Then they heard a faint whirring.

The whirring rapidly grew louder until suddenly, two identical Atlesian dropships - the angular, curved airships they had seen during the Battle of Beacon - rose from under the cliffs and hovered, suspended in the air behind Stick for a moment, sunlight reflecting off of their hulls. Nickelas noticed that not only had they been painted a reflective black, but that they were now completely stripped of any Atlesian markings. After a few moments had passed, the airships lowered themselves and touched down on the landing pad. The airship on the left cut its engines and opened its rear ramp. A man in a pinstriped suit, with green-grey hair disembarked. Behind him, a second man, almost a foot taller than the first man, followed. The shorter man shook hands with Stick, as the second dropship's rear hatch opened. The pair of new arrivals got on board, and before any of the remaining members of team TSMN could react, it took off into the dusk sky.

Nickelas dashed up to Stick.

"How did you..? When did you..?" he started, as Magnolia and Thyst joined them.

"I called in a favor." Stick answered.

"That doesn't help answer question!" Nickelas exclaimed.

"To be fair, Nick, you didn't really ask a full question." Thyst said, as he climbed up the dropship's rear ramp. He scanned the ship over with his eyes. Then he turned to Stick, who joined him on the ramp a moment later. "Nice choice." Thyst said. "How'd you get your hands on it?"

Magnolia walked up next to Stick, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How about we just let a magician have his tricks?" She suggested.

* * *

A gentle wind shook the treetops quietly, the rustling of leaves harmonizing with the melodies of crickets. In this symphony, an owl preformed the refrain as it sat perched on a tree branch. Moonlight filtered through the leaves and settled peacefully into the underbrush, resting atop a layer of fallen leaves.

Gradually, the leaves began to pick up off the ground and swirl into the air. The owl was disturbed and took flight, soaring gracefully into the night. The treetops began to shake, and the quiet forest clearing came alive with motion.

An unmarked Atlesian dropship, carrying a truck of some kind, made almost entirely of crossing bars, lowered itself in the clearing. It fit nicely physically, but was a stark contrast to the small sanctuary of nature otherwise untouched by civilization.

The magnetic locks holding the vehicle in place released and dropped it a few feet onto the ground. It landed without an issue, it's suspension absorbing the force of the drop. The dropship titled backwards, and flew clear of the vehicle, before turning fully around and touching down on the ground. The rear of the dropship opened and the ramp fell with a quiet thump into the leaves.

Stick, in his blue camouflage pants and standard issue upper-body armor, walked down the ramp and presented the nature scene before his friends by spreading his arms wide in front of him. His arms bore a long, black sleeves that extended down to his wrists where, on the left hand, it met with a fingerless black glove. His right glove were nowhere to be found. The collar of his shirt reached high up and fit snugly to his neck. His light, almost-white, scarf had a single navy blue line running its entire length. The scarf hung loosely from his shoulders. He carried a long, black rifle with faint detailing the color of sea glass. The rifle was attached to a sling and was slung over his shoulder. It was reminiscent of a musket, but if muskets were used in a cyberpunk future. Around his waist was a belt, and on that belt were a series of tightly packed, long and thin rectangular cartridges. A pair of cartridges were also strapped to the upper part of his left arm. Each cartridge had a strip of color printed on it, denoting which type of elemental Dust it held inside. He turned to his friends and spoke.

"Thank you for choosing Air Brinewater." Stick announced sarcastically. "I'm not taking any watches tonight." he then declared. "So you people can sort that out. I need my sleep if I'm going to fly us across an ocean tomorrow." he paused, "We leave at seven."

* * *

They left at seven. Magnolia sat beside Stick in the co-pilot's chair. Her head dipped as she slept quietly, while the dropship soared above the rolling waves of the ocean between Sanus and Solitas. She had fallen asleep the moment she sat down, and had been ever sleeping since. When Stick had awoken earlier that day, he had found her sitting, cross-legged and awake on a tree stump near the edge of the campsite. She had borrowed Stick's own stippled grey overcoat, with it's faded brown fur collar. She had pulled it close to her person, seeking warmth in the ever increasing cold of the autumn nights. Stick was able to walk over to her and sit down, before she had taken any notice of him, which was unlike her. When he said good morning, she jumped, then began apologizing profusely for taking his coat without asking and removed it quickly. Stick had inquired if she had gotten _any_ sleep the night before, which she told him that she hadn't. She had taken first watch the night before, and when second watch came around, she decided to stay up for it because she was still wide awake at the time. So then when third watch came around and she was going to switch, she thought it would be unfair to wake Nickelas since she hadn't woken Thyst for the second watch, and…

Stick had cut her off, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Magnolia" he had said, standing up. "I'll go wake up the others."

Magnolia smiled sleepily.

Back in the present, Stick studied Magnolia's blindfolded face for a moment. Unable to see her eyes, the only indicator of her sleep was the loosely hung head, and her slow, steady breathing. After a brief examination, he turned his eyes forward again to the open sky, and slid back into the rhythm of flight, leaving the kingdom of Vale and the ruins of Beacon behind.

* * *

The largest structure on the eastern half of this island was a massive pair of storage tanks. Near the eastern coast of the island, a fueling station had been established by Atlas, presumably off the western coast of the mainland. Behind the dual tanks was a pine forest of dark wood that stretched on for miles. In the distance to the east, the mountains of mainland Solitas reached upwards and cut swathes through the thick clouds, illuminated by the rising sun.

The journey to get here had been long, and put frankly, quite boring. Half of Thyst hoped there would be no Grimm in sight on this island. The other half itched to do battle with another one Grimm, like the one they had found at Hourglass. The six-legged Beowolf that Stick had described was sounding like a good target to hunt. Magnolia agreed with him on this, abnormal Grimm made for satisfying targets. Nickelas calibrated a few things in his visor, and contemplated the mission. They had a vague description of their target, and an even more vague idea of its location. The CCT was down, so they had no support. But if they didn't do it then who would? And they weren't about to sit around and wait for the CCT to come back before acting. If Ozpin had sent them to a military base and there had been a Grimm none of the team had seen or heard of before, and then they heard there was another base with another Grimm, then it had to be connected to their mission somehow. If it wasn't, they were about to find out. But even if it had nothing to do with the mission Ozpin had given them, then it was only their duty to dispose of any threat this close to civilization.

The dropship touched down on the rocky shoreline of the island and opened its rear hatch. The buggy made lowering the hatch all the way a bit difficult, so the ramp ended up about two feet above the snow covered ground. Thyst's simple black boots hit the ground, and sunk an inch into the snow.

As his weight cracked the hardened snow. A wispy black form retreated from beneath the storage tanks, and into the snowy pine forest.

Nickelas leapt from the ramp and landed next to Thyst, sinking a little deeper than Thyst had. After him, Magnolia stepped out of the dropship, landing without a sound, and where her bare foot touched the snow, she left no indentation. Stick followed her, but he also sank into the snow. As far as they were aware, this island was uninhabited.

As the four walked towards the base, Stick took a single cartridge from his belt and opened a latch on the corner of it. Inside was small wheel, like those found on pocket lighters. He spun it once with his thumb, then closed the latch. He swung Death Rattle into his free hand and opened a compartment under the front end of the barrel. He slide the cartridge in and closed the compartment. Death Rattle hummed faintly.

"One in the chamber…" he muttered to himself.

The refueling station was best described as quaint. It was composed of two buildings. A barracks and pumping station. It could have been said that the station had three buildings were in not for the fact that the storage shed looked more like an opened shipping container, than a building. There was no designated landing zone in sight, so Stick wondered what the station was doing here so close to the water, when it could have easily been more inland. It would be safer there. An open weapon box, no larger than a suitcase, lay open in front of the storage shed. More concerningly, it lay open in a patch of snow, the color of blood. Thyst took that image as a bad omen, and the team avoided the empty shed, approaching the pumping station instead. The footprints of Reed's men could be still be seen faintly in the snow.

As the four approached the raised building, Thyst stopped them at the bottom of the staircase.

"Magnolia, Stick, post. Keep this place locked down. No Grimm past this point." Thyst said, pointing at the first step of metal grating on the metal staircase. Thyst began climbing the stairs with Nickelas behind him. Magnolia and Stick stood their posts. When Thyst had reached the top of the stairs, he found the door was locked. So he rammed his elbow through the glass, and unlocked the door from the inside. Nickelas followed him inside, and they scanned the room for anything of importance.

* * *

Purple's scent was strongest. But Purple and Silver had gone up. Blue was the weakest scent. But Blue had a gun. I don't like guns. Pink was with Blue. Pink had a strong scent, like Purple. Pink first. No. Blue will shoot. I don't like guns. Blue first.

The wisp of black coiled across the ground, through the metal framework of the pumping station's support beams.

* * *

The inside of the pumping station was scattered about. There were a pair of swivelling office chairs, but little else in the way of furnishing. Thyst rummaged through drawers while Nickelas scanned the long dashboard of switches and valves for any sign of a computer. For the most part, this station seemed to be manual, lacking anything digital. Though, if Nickelas's estimated age for this station was accurate, that made sense. He ran a hand across the outdated systems and scanned the rest of the room with his Semblance. There it was. Nickelas located the only terminal in the room, a small screen embedded in the dashboard. He pressed the power located in the top right corner and got no response. He'd expected this. He knelt down and searched for a panel to remove. It was just his luck that the panel he was looking for was already loose. He grabbed it and pulled it off easily. He stared at the insides for a moment.

"Hey Thyst…" he said. "You might want to take a look at this."

Thyst joined walked the few steps to the side and peered into the hatch Nickelas had opened.

"Am I being your battery ag…" Thyst began, but stopped short when he looked inside. The inside of the computer was obliterated. But not as if a Grimm had attacked and struck it by accident, but as if someone had unloaded a shotgun into it.

"I'm starting to get the feeling that someone is trying to keep a secret." Nickelas said.

* * *

Stick could have sworn he saw that shadow move. He turned to look under the pumping station. Nothing. He breathed out and looked around.

"Hear anything, Magnolia?" He asked.

"No." She responded. Stick nodded and gazed at the snow. The footprints of Reed's men told a story and he tried to follow it. He watched where they landed and spread out, then came back together at the storage container. The snow was packed down there, all the footprints mixing with each other and forming a large depression in the snow. His gaze fell on the blood-stained box.

"Was it really worth it, Reed?" Stick asked himself. Having your men die for some guns? He watched again as footprints scattered, and ran in straight lines for where they had originated. Some of them disappeared halfway. Though, something was missing. He followed the men's footprints again.

"Oh fuck…" Stick whispered. He realized what was missing. He didn't see a single footprint that belonged to any Grimm. The shadows under the pumping station seemed to move again.

"Oh fuck..!" Stick exclaimed. Four glowing red dots formed in a cloud of smoke, then in an instant, the rest of the Grimm's body took shape before him. It exploded forward in a blur of motion, swinging one of its four clawed frontal limbs. Stick only had enough time to raise Death Rattle to block the attack before it connected. The strike ripped Death Rattle from his grasp and sent it flipping through the air, landing barrel first in the snow and sticking straight up. Stick would have appreciated this almost poetic moment, if next slashes hadn't met his chest and sent him flying off the steps. His chest stung, but his Aura held fast. Sticks back slammed hard into the metal of the storage container, and he fell face first into the snow.

Magnolia witnessed the a pocket of void open in the light of the living world. It shifted, and before she could react, it had sent the glow of Stick's turquoise Aura flying. There was no way a Grimm could have successfully snuck up on her. She would have heard it's footsteps. How did it get so close? Magnolia held her arms out to the sides and two identical blades slid into her grasp from the borrowed coat's sleeves. They were thick, straight blades, except for the two small hooks on both edges near the end where the chain connected to either blade. She might not have seen it coming, but it was here now. She dashed forward, and jabbed with the left blade. The Grimm lurched to the side and avoided the attack. Magnolia adjusted her footing, and slashed with the blade in her right hand. The Grimm avoided this as well. The Grimm lowered itself to the ground and leapt over Magnolia, landing behind her. It slashed with the two front limbs on its torso as it landed. Magnolia jumped over the horizontal attack, and opened the coat as she fell back to the ground. The Grimm slashed a second time, and she sidestepped it, letting the knife in her right hand hang loose, suspended on a chain of shining metal ringlets, she reach into her kimono, and pulled out two smaller knives. The Grimm swung all four frontal limbs at her, and she leapt over the attack, flipping once in the air, and throwing the pair small knives into the Grimm's back.

One of the knives bounced off the interlocking chunks of white that lined the Grimm's back like spinal armor. Magnolia looked at the Grimm. Beowolves didn't normally have that. Granted, they normally didn't have six legs or four eyes for that matter.

Thyst burst from the doorway when he heard the sounds of fighting. He peered over the railing of the walkway that surrounded the pumping station. Magnolia was exchanging blows with some kind of Beowolf, but with six legs. Thyst had expected a bit of a hunt, but it seemed that yet again, the Grimm had found them first. He watched as the Grimm landed a hit on Magnolia and sent her tumbling across the snow. He scanned the scene for Stick, and found him face down in the snow next to the storage. If the blood hadn't been there already, he would have been worried that Stick was bleeding. Nickelas came through the door.

"You get Magnolia, I'll get the Grimm." Thyst said to Nickelas. Without waiting for a response, he leapt over the railing.

Thyst sprinted at the Grimm, and with a crackle of electricity, flashed upwards above it. He came down with the blade aimed at the Grimm's torso, but the moment before he could connect with the Grimm, it vanished in a puff of wispy black smoke. Then he felt a presence above him. A clawed strike hit him in the side of the chest and sent him slamming into one of the support beams of the pumping station. He bent backwards and pain shot up his body as he fell to the ground on his side. His Aura began healing his wounds quickly.

Through blurred vision, Stick looked around him, in the blinding white of sunlight reflecting off of snow. He patted the ground around him for his weapon. As he looked up, and saw Nickelas helping Magnolia get to her feet, and the shape of Thyst curled up against a pumping station support beam. It was approaching Thyst quickly, its fangs bared and claws poised for the kill. Then his hand felt something solid under it. He looked at what was under his hand and saw the bloodstained weapon case from before. Then he also realized Death Rattle was more than just an arm's distance out of reach. The Grimm was almost on top of Thyst now, and Nickelas had noticed that too. With Argent in shield form, he charged the Grimm. The Grimm turned, a moment too late, and cocked it's head. Nickelas swung the shield and caught the Grimm across the jaw, knocking it away from Thyst. It regained it's footing almost instantly, and returned the assault on Nickelas. Hiding behind his shield, Nickelas felt the relentless strikes of all four frontal limbs. He was confident that the shield could hold up against it, however. He pulled Argent back, ready to return the favor and send the Grimm flying. As he pulled it back a single strike came downward at the shield. He raised to deflect it, but the watched as the limb unnaturally shifted positions, like a fluid, and came from underneath the raised shield, hitting Nickelas in the gut. He stumbled backwards but held fast to Argent. The Grimm placed a clawed hand on the rim of the shield and lifted Nickelas into the air, before slamming him into the ground. The Grimm leaned in close and stared at Nickelas, its claws still wrapped around the shield. Nickelas smirked, and the oval of his barrier sprung to life. With a searing bite, the Grimm's long claws were removed from its body, as the energy of the expanding barrier cut through it's flesh. It retreated from Nickelas, clutching its injured paw. Nickelas's smirk faded as the world became blurry. The impact with the ground had stunned him, even if he had been able to do a bit of quick thinking, the blow was catching up to him now. He caught his breath under the safety of his barrier.

Stick tried to stand up, felt woozy, then braced himself by taking a knee. He watched as the Grimm bore down on Nickelas's barrier. There was no way he was making it to Death Rattle fast enough. His hand closed around the grip of a pistol. He held it up.

Magnolia struggled to stand. She would never admit it, but the cold air was affecting her more than she would have liked. She ran at the Grimm, which shifted its attention to her. It swung savagely at her, but she just barely deflected the strike with her armored tail. With another set of claws, the Grimm swung, but Magnolia placed her left palm on its forearm and redirected the strike. She held one of her blades tightly in her right hand, and avoided a third attack from the Grimm. She spun around the fourth attack, and as she did so, the blade in her hand opened, segmenting and widening. She finished her spin with an upwards, backhanded swing with the now opened weapon. It cut across the Grimm's chest. Magnolia held the now opened warfan in front of her face. Her breathing was heavy. She deflected a few attacks, but the cold air was causing her airway to constrict. With a sluggish motion, she swung once more to deflect a swipe, but the Grimm followed up with a second from the same side, and broke through her defense. Her leg buckled and she fell into the snow. The ever cold snow…

Stick searched the weapon case furiously for a magazine and ammunition, but found none. He looked up and watched Magnolia fall over. There was no time to waste.

He mustered his voice and shouted; "hey, you freak of nature!" Then he hurled the empty handgun at the Grimm. The weapon connected with a crack against the Grimm's skull. It paused for a moment, then it's head turned almost one hundred and eighty degrees to look at Stick.

"You missed me." Stick said. He might not have shown it, but inside he was panicking. The Grimm's body followed the head, as it readjusted, and cocked its head at Stick. In a blur of hazy motion, it was on top of Stick, already mid-slash.

Stick's hand rose instinctively to block the attack, and when it made contact, with the Grimm's claws, there was a flash, a mere spark of turquoise. The resulting sound echoed like a gunshot. Stick raised his arms defensively and readied himself for pain. Every time the Grimm struck his arms, its claws were met with the same turquoise flash, and the same loud crack. Stick felt the Grimm winning, and against survival instinct, he gave in and shifted his weight backwards. The Grimm leaned in closer, and as it did, faint cracks began to appear under Stick's right foot. The cracks flashed the same turquoise as the sparks, and the snow beneath his foot exploded with force, launching snow out in a burst and sending the weapon case flying. The resulting force propelled Stick's leg in a roundhouse kick that sent the Grimm reeling a few feet, and tumbling through the snow. Stick breathed heavily and his head dipped. He noticed something where the case used to be.

The Grimm settled down on all six of its legs and dashed forward at Stick. He was caught off guard and knocked onto his back, the Grimm leering down at him, breathing into his face. Were in not for the gas mask, he was sure it would reek. The Grimm raised a claw, but as it did, Stick reached for the object that was half buried in the snow next to him. His hand tightened around the grip and he pressed it into the chest of the Grimm, then he prayed the gun was loaded.

There were three resounding cracks as the pistol went off. The Grimm recoiled just long enough. A bolt of electricity collided with the Grimm and knocked it off of Stick. Thyst stood above him, and held out Death Rattle for Stick to take. He did, and he stood up, which Thyst went to battle with the Grimm. Claws clashing with Talons, strike for strike, as Stick put distance between himself and the Grimm. After landing a particularly hard bicycle kick, Thyst broke off from the battle, and ran to join his team. The Grimm followed. Thyst tapped out and Nickelas stepped forward. Argent was no longer a shield, but took the form of two swords.

As the rest of his team made their way towards the dropship. Nickelas matched the injured Grimm's swipes with sword strikes. If the Grimm wanted to move like smoke, then Nickelas would just blow it away like a fan. The Grimm opened it's long, ivory canine mask and smoke poured out of it's mouth, veiling it's movements.

"You think I can't see your tricky movements, oh no, no. What you don't understand is that I see everything," Nickelas muttered angrily. The Grimm became a blur of motion, downward strikes becoming horizontal slashes, and vice versa, in a normally unpredictable manner. Only, Nickelas could predict them, and returned each attack with a slash on the Grimm's forearm. The Grimm' attacks slowed, and the dark mist surrounding it began to vanish. It's attacks became fervent, but reckless. Just a Nickelas wanted. With a spinning of the swords, Argent took on the shape of a shield, and the next thing the Grimm knew, it was several feet in the air. From the ramp of the dropship, Stick took aim

"Pull." he said, leveling Death Rattle. There was a plume of smoke from the long rifle, and a light blue beam erupted from the barrel. It tore through the air and the Grimm alike. The beam blew off two of the Grimm's front legs, both from the right side of it's torso.

"There we go." Nickelas said, climbing into the dropship. "Four legs again. Like a normal Beowolf." They watched as the Grimm fell on it's back and stopped moving. Then it's body began to dissipate into black smoke. The team, except for Magnolia, breathed a collective sigh of relief as the body of the Grimm faded.

"How exactly do we know if it's actually dead?" Magnolia asked.

"What do you mean?" Thyst responded.

"I mean, didn't we see it controlling smoke before? How do we know it's actually dead?" She elaborated

"Grimm aren't smart enough to fake their own deaths." Nickelas retorted.

"Apparently this one is." Stick pointed out. "Though, I don't quite know how it survived." Stick mused, as the black mass of smoke consciously sped off into the forest.

"How exactly did we survive?" Thyst asked.

"Fair point." Stick surrendered.

"Are we going to follow it?!" Nickelas exclaimed, snapping Stick's attention to the situation at hand. He ran to start the dropship's engines.

"Hold on to something!" he yelled as he took off with a drastic backwards tilt spinning the dropship back into a forward alignment. He set the engines full forward, and chased the Grimm from the air. It was no longer covered in smoke, but still ran with amazing speed, surprisingly so, for missing two of it's legs. It's hobbling gait made it easy to track, even if it didn't leave a visible trail to follow otherwise.

"Just give me the order." Stick said as he aimed the dual chainguns on the Grimm and prepared to fire.

"Not yet," Thyst said, "I want to see where this thing is going."


	8. FUEL (VI ChVIII)

**[VIII] Fuel**

The Grimm would lead them across the entire island. Within the dropship, Nickelas's wounds had already healed and, with his mind clear of pain, he reflected on the encounter. A lot had occurred in a short amount of time, but what haunted him most was that the Grimm hadn't made a single noise. It had been utterly silent the entire fight. This creature was unnatural, even for Grimm standards.

"Hey, Nick!" Stick yelled urgently, "Nick, pay attention! I lost sight of it!"

Nickelas shook his head and peered out over the edge of the ramp. He searched the ground with his Semblence. A shape moved with incredible speed across the ground, and avoided pine trees with ease, even as it sped forward.

"Left!" He yelled over the howling wind. The dropship leaned to the left

"Straight ahead!" The dropship responded.

"Left, again!" The dropship tilted. Stick saw a glimpse of black through the pine canopy.

"I have visual!" Stick yelled. Nickelas stopped calling out commands, but kept his focus on the Grimm's movements. For something missing a third of its legs, when it used all of them to run, the beast was fast.

The pursuit had lasted nearly ten minutes when Nickelas began to wonder if the Grimm would even lead them somewhere, or if it were merely running desperately for its life. That behaviour, fleeing, was unlike most creatures of Grimm. Then his Semblence picked up something. Two somethings. Nickelas noticed the pine forest was gradually thinning, and oddly enough, the trees began to slant, seeming to grow diagonally, getting progressively lower to the ground as they got closer. Then two large shapes dominated the scene.

"Is anyone else seeing what I am?" Thyst called out from the the front of the dropship. Nickelas looked downwards at the ground.

"If you're looking at a pair of crashed airships…" Nickelas said. "Then yeah, we're seeing the same thing."

* * *

The Grimm stood still amongst the wreckage of two formerly fleet-worthy airships. The first airship was split raggedly down the center, separating the bow and the stern. Between the two halves of this airship, was the second airship, as if it had split its twin like an axe splits a log.

This axe of an airship was in comparatively better condition, save for the massive hole near its bow. Both airships bore a slight resemblance to the modern Atlesian navy, but weren't quite the long and angled ships Stick, or the rest of the team for that matter, were familiar with. The similarities to Atlas ended at the wing structure. Oddly enough, as Magnolia and Nickelas both noted, the ships' hulls shared a striking similarity to the sharp keeled designs of Mistral's own airships.

"You think it just led us to it's lair?" Thyst said.

"Maybe it thinks it will have an advantage, here." Magnolia suggested.

Thyst scoffed. "It didn't consider that it was fighting a pair of flying guns." He said, "Stick, end it."

"Gladly." Stick responded, pressing down on the chainguns' dual triggers.

Silence.

Nothing happened.

Stick slammed his fist against the dashboard.

"Damnit, Reed!" He yelled. "That greedy son of bitch…"

"What's the matter?" Magnolia asked

"The dropship doesn't have a weapons system. He fucking removed it!" Stick exclaimed.

"Maybe you should have a little talk with your friend when we're done here, Stick." Thyst said.

"Oh, I plan to…" Stick muttered.

* * *

The team approached the injured Grimm cautiously. Either it hadn't noticed them, or the Grimm was waiting for them. Crouched behind a fallen tree, Thyst and Nickelas readied themselves. Nickelas placed a hand on the bark of the wide tree, readying to peek out from behind cover. He was distracted when he felt a soft object under his hand. He lifted his hand and revealed a thin, black vine. He followed the plant and saw it was wrapped around the exposed root of the fallen tree. Some kind of lichen, no doubt. He admired the fact that even somewhere cold like this, life found a way.

A few steps to the left, Magnolia and Stick prepared, crouched behind a stray shard of wreckage. Thyst watched Stick reload Death Rattle. They peered out from behind cover and watched the oddly stagnant Grimm. Thyst was in the middle of formulating a plan when he was cut off by a howl. His head snapped to the injured Grimm, then he turned to Nickelas.

"That wasn't him." Nickelas answered the unvoiced question.

They watched as a Beowolf, emerged from the bowels of the bisected airship. Much like the injured Grimm, it's outline was hazy, and looked almost as if it were made of the same smoke. Otherwise, this Grimm appeared normal. Magnolia made a quiet sound of thinking, little more than a 'hm'.

"He has a friend." she declared, a moment before the Beowolf bared it's fangs at the injured Grimm. Snarling, it lowered itself on it's back legs. The injured Grimm remained silent and motionless. In a flash of motion and haze, the Beowolf leapt at the injured Grimm. With only a slight visible shift, the injured Grimm caught the lunging Beowolf with it's two remaining front arms. Smoke seeped from the various wounds on it forearms as it held the smaller Beowolf by both the throat and the arm. In a quick motion, it tore the Beowolf's arm off, and slammed the rest of the lesser Grimm's body into the ground, claws still wrapped tightly around the smaller Grimm's throat. The tearing of flesh was audible, but still, the larger Grimm made no sound. With the now amputated Beowolf on the ground, the larger Grimm cracked it's own neck backwards, then dove forward, biting down on the Beowolf's exposed neck. With a jerk, that Beowolf lost it's head.

The Hunstmen watched in stunned silence at the Grimm now feasting on the rapidly dissipating corpse of the Beowolf.

"He doesn't have a friend." Magnolia corrected herself.

* * *

To the members of team TSNM, it looked as if the the remaining Grimm was breathing deeply of the vanishing corpse. As it did, the wounds on it's body began to close, the fuming slashes closing and returning the Grimm to a more stable, and solid state. To their horror as they watched in confusion, two gouts of smoke erupted from where it's missing limbs were. Within seconds, they had taken shape and all six of the Grimm's limbs were restored.

"Well that's new." Nickelas said

"Any thoughts on how to beat it?" Thyst asked.

"It's just a more dangerous type of Beowolf, if you look at it. Aside from being able to turn into whatever kind of smoke it turns into, just by fighting it I can tell it's fundamentally the same type of Grimm..." Nickelas began.

"Give me the synopsis, Nick." Thyst said. Nickelas caught his breath.

"It's just a matter of wearing it down. If it can keep healing like that, by absorbing other Grimm, then we need to make sure it stays isolated. Otherwise I don't know if it would be possible to wear it down. It's a difficult opponent Thyst. I don't think there's a plan to be made to defeat it." Nickelas said.

A few feet away, Stick stood up and walked out from behind cover. The Grimm sensed him and its eyes snapped onto the Huntsman as he raised his rifle.

"Then we wing it." Stick said.

The Grimm exploded forward as a pillar of smoke, writhing across the snowy ground. Stick followed it with his rifle as it closed the distance between them. It came closer, and Stick readied to pull the trigger. At the last moment, the smoke accelerated and slipped past him. The large Grimm reconstituted behind him and raised its claws to attack.

Stick flipped Death Rattle and gripped the end of the barrel. He spun around and swung the firearm like a bat. The weighted stock connected with the side of the Grimm's head. There was a flash of turquoise between the rifle and the Grimm's white, masked head. The Grimm went down into the snow, and faintly glowing cracks appeared on the side of its face.

Magnolia refused to let something as mundane as the cold stop her. With her Aura restored, the cold no longer bothered her as much as it had earlier. She leapt over the makeshift cover and ran at the recovering Grimm. Her large knives, the paired kyoketsu shoge, opened into fans, whose thin metal reflected the sunlight more than the snow.

The Grimm clutched its face as it rose to its feet. Smoke poured from the cracks in its mask. It readied to swipe at Stick, but Magnolia caught the downward strike with one fan and cast it's attack aside. As she sidestepped the follow-up attack directed at her, a crack of lightning hit the Grimm. Thyst stood beside Magnolia, Indra buried in the Grimm's upper arm. It shrugged off the weapon's blade and back handed Thyst, sending him through the air. It sunk down into smoke and shot across the ground to where Thyst would land. It sprung back up, but when it went to slash at the Huntsman, it found nothing. There was a crackle behind the Grimm, and Thyst came out of electric form right behind the it, wedging Garuda between two of its armored spinal plates. The Grimm's back arched away from the strike in pain, but it made no cry. The Grimm spun and bucked Thyst from its back, exposing it's chest.

Magnolia pounced on the opening, and collapsed both fans. She thrust them into the chest of the Grimm, then opened them once more from inside the Grimm. They sprung open and tore two wounds into it's body. The Grimm reached to grab her, but she let go of her weapons and flipped backwards through the air. Sturdy, but thin chains connected her to her weapons, and she took them in her hands. Magnolia spun the chains in the air and around the extended arms of the Grimm. They wrapped tightly around its wrists, and Magnolia pulled on the chain. The hooks held firmly in the Grimm's chest, deep in its flesh.

The chains carried her forward and she spun in the air. Her armored tail swung, but passed through nothing. Before her feet touched the snow covered ground, she knew the Grimm had sublimed and evaded her attack.

The void of its presence swept along the ground. It was heading straight for Stick, who readied to swing Death Rattle. Magnolia wondered why this Grimm's had such an obsession with Stick.

When the Grimm rose from the smoky mass on the ground, Stick was ready. The Grimm raised an arm to swipe, but Stick swung his rifle.

The Grimm caught Death Rattle in one hand, and took Stick by the throat with another. Stick struggled in vain to wrest himself free as the Grimm cast Death Rattle aside. It carried him, taking three strides towards the front half of the destroyed airship. Up close, Stick noticed that the wounds on the Grimm's chest were already closing. The Grimm lifted Stick into the air, and slammed him into the metal of hull, which dented slightly under the force.

Nickelas ran for the Grimm, Argent's blades humming with energy. The Grimm's feet shifted as Nickelas brought his swords down. Without turning to face Nickelas, the Grimm swung Stick's struggling body into him, swatting Nickelas away like an insect. The Grimm slammed Stick against the hull again, and readied a set of claws. Beneath him, the metal groaned and began to cave in.

Stick took hold of the glossed wood grip of the handgun he had jammed through his belt. He raised the long barreled pistol with a shaking hand. Before he could fire off any shots, the Grimm pinned his wrist to the metal, and brought it's claws down.

With his free hand, Stick undid the latch on one of Death Rattles cartridges. He smacked the claws away with his fist closed tightly around the rectangular cartridge. He spun the geared wheel in the cartridge twice and tossed it into the air. In the brief instant that the cartridge flipped through the air, Stick tensed his left hand. And swung at the Grimm. Four glowing lines appeared on it's neck, and reared it's head back in reaction. Stick held his hand out in front of his face, claws extended. The Grimm bared its fangs at the resisting prey, and opened its maw to snap down onto the hand that struck it. A moment before it bit down, Stick caught the falling cartridge. It hummed violently in his hand as the Grimm's mouth closed around it, a moment before the it exploded.

Stick's body was fired like a projectile through the ship's hull, the force of the explosion causing the metal to crumple under him. He felt the Aura leaving his body, and a sharp pain in his abdomen. Then for a little while, he felt nothing at all.

* * *

Back outside of the crashed ship, Nickelas heard a bang, and felt a rush of heat. He stood up and staggered as his vision focused. He saw the Grimm. It was stumbling backwards, clutching its face. For the first time, it made a sound, and the sound was a long, guttural cry of agony. While it was stunned, all three remaining members of TSNM charged the Grimm. As it turned to them, Nickelas caught a glimpse of it's face. The mask was blown in two, much like the ship next to him. Smoke erupted in thrashing tendrils from the right side of it's head. It fought all three of them off savagely, swinging its claws wildly in every direction.

* * *

Light came out of the wall in a single beam. The room was blurry, and dark particles floated through the singular beam of light. Someone needed to clean in here, there was a lot of dust in the air. And not the cool elemental kind for that matter. The surface underneath him was hard. Was he in a bed? A figure loomed over him. A woman. Not his mother though. He had a headache, and there was a sharp pain in his stomach. Was he sick? He must be, and this woman was taking care of him. He must be sure to thank her later. The woman above him let out a deep groan. He closed his eyes and laid back. This bed really wasn't that soft. The woman let out a shriek.

Stick opened his eyes and snapped back to reality. The woman threw herself wildly at him, screeching. He tried to raise his arms in defense, but only his right arm came up. His mind was racing when he resorted to kicking upwards defensively. The woman fell on her back a short distance away, and Stick looked down at his left arm. When he tried to move his left hand, it was numb. The glove was in pieces, as was the sleeve, which was to be expected after what had just happened. The web of black tendrils slowly wrapping themselves around his arm, however, was not. He summoned his remaining strength and tried to wrench his arm from the tendrils' grasp. To his surprise, they gave way almost immediately. With his hand free but still unresponsive, Stick rolled to the side and brought himself to a kneeling position, pain shooting up his abdomen as he did so. Even though the motion and the pain, Stick was able to get a good look at the woman attacking him.. Frankly, he couldn't really call the figure that was slowly getting to its feet a woman anymore. Her skin was matte black, and her face was covered without any pattern in small chunks of what looked like bone shards. Her body was contorted, and her leg was clearly broken but she stood on it anyway. Her arms were tense, and moved in sharp angles. She walked liked a puppet whose strings had been knotted together.

Stick looked down at his hands, as the twisted woman shambled slowly toward him. Then he looked at his right hand, it worked, in fact, he still had a pistol tightly in his grip. The woman shrieked again and lunged at him. He rolled out of the way, pain once more shooting through his abdomen. The woman landed where he had been kneeling a moment before. Her back arched, and she lurched upwards. Stick raised his handgun. The woman opened her mouth, and thick black smoke poured from it. She began her bloodcurdling shriek once more, but it was cut short by a single pistol report. Her head erupted into a black cloud. It dissipated slowly, as Stick stood up, and tried to catch his breath. It was difficult. Pain shot through Sticks upper body again. He looked down.

"Well that explains it.." Stick muttered.

A bloodied shard of metal poked out from just below his ribcage. Stick placed his pistol by his foot, and took a deep breath, before patting down his back. He breathed out. There it was. Stick breathed in again. He felt the wider end of the metal in his hand. He breathed out. Stick took a firm grasp of the shard of metal, and took a deep breath in. He held his breath, and yanked the shard of metal out of his body.

Stick felt the sudden urge to cough.

The metal dropped with a clang. Stick reached his hand up, taking hold of his gas mask, and tearing it off from over his mouth, before coughing violently. The snow at his feet was stained a bright red. He took a deep breath, in and out, disturbing the black particles in the air. Stick knelt down to pick up his pistol and noticed the walls. Black tendrils hugged tightly to every surface around him. He didn't have much time to take it in, as he heard the rush of footfalls, and animal-like cries, deeper into the dark bowels of the ship's remains.

* * *

Thyst was firing bullet after bullet, point blank at the Grimm, the gunshots echoing across the artificial valley between the two crashed ships. He was about to fire another, when the Grimm slammed down with all four of it's front legs into the snow, knocking the three Huntsmen away. As they recovered, it took off running into the woods, leaving no footprints. Nickelas looked up from the ground, and watched it go. There was no way he would be able to keep up with it. Thyst however, stood up a few feet to his left, and without a word, pursued the fleeing Grimm. Nickelas hung his head and breathed heavily. Then he saw a pair of bare feet in front of him.

Nickelas looked up and saw Magnolia's hand extended outward. He took it graciously, and Magnolia helped him up. The two were left alone in the now eerily calm crash site. Magnolia turned to Nickelas and uttered a single word.

"Stick."

The duo ran towards the gaping hole in the side of the broken ship, and were about to enter when they heard a short series of three gun shots. they paused, thinking it might be Thyst, but then Magnolia realized they were not the same sound as Thyst's dual barreled arm cannon of gun. These were quieter pops. A handgun. Stick's handgun, from the pumping station. Normally gunshots were a bad sign, but these ones filled her with hope. It meant he was alive. They got more proof he was alive a moment later, when he tumbled out of the hole, and landed in the snow. Nickelas noticed he was bleeding from the abdomen. Considering the circumstances, things could be worse.

"Stick, you're bleeding! Are you alright?" Nickelas asked, as Magnolia helped Stick up.

"Run." He said, lifting Death Rattle up off the ground, and slinging it over his shoulder.

"What?" Nickelas asked, but as he did a shriek came from inside the ship's body, and Stick looked Nickelas in the eyes.

"Run!" He said, louder, pushing them both, as the first figure stumbled out of the hole behind him. They didn't ask any questions, and started running for their dropship. Nickelas looked back, as more and more of these figures were spilling from the ship, stumbling mindlessly over each other. They were pitch black, for the most part, and their bodies were pockmarked with pieces of white, just like Grimm. But they moved like, and were distinctly, humanoid creatures. The shamblers, wearing what looked like the tattered remains of military uniforms, stumbled forward on contorted limbs, and let out animalistic cries. It was as if the crew of the fallen ship had come back as a pack of vengeful spirits.

"Are those… people?" Magnolia asked as she ran. Stick stumbled through the snow in front of her, clutching his wound with his right hand. His left arm was limp.

"If they were people, they sure as hell aren't anymore." He said, clambering up the elevated ramp and into the dropship. The mass of shrieking figures weren't far from the dropship now.

Stick tossed himself into the pilot's chair and went through the process of starting the dropship's engines. The horde of humanoid Grimm surged forward. They weren't going to lift off in time. Stick pointed Magnolia towards a hatch on the wall behind his seat.

"Open it!" He said, and without hesitation, she went for the simple solution, kicking the complex latch holding the hatch closed. The hatch fell open and revealed the container inside. She pulled a container out from the hatch and tossed it to Nickelas. He caught it and looked at it.

"Is this our extra fuel?"

"Yes." Magnolia said as Stick stood up from the pilot's seat behind her.

"Now throw it." Stick said. Nickelas looked at container. He shrugged and tossed it out of the dropship. It buried itself in the snow, a few feet from the shrieking masses. A gunshot sounded behind Nickelas, and he watched as the container erupted into a ball of purple and orange flame.

The ball of fire spread into a temporary barrier, and the first row of shamblers fell into it, catching fire and collapsing after a few steps. The remaining horde stopped and watched the first row burn. As mindless as they seemed, they appeared to have a modicum of survival instinct. But they quickly realized they could simply go around the flames, and surged forward once more. But by then, the dropship had lifted off and soared away.

Magnolia smacked Stick on the head.

"What are you, suicidal?" she asked in an annoyed tone. Stick chuckled quietly. He lifted his hand and pressed his index finger to his thumb.

"Maybe just a little." he said, then started coughing. Flecks of blood landed on the dashboard, and Magnolia sighed.

"You might not make it next time…" she muttered as she sat down in the co-pilot's seat.

* * *

They found Thyst standing in a clearing in the woods. Unfortunately, he explained to his team, he had lost track of the Grimm. At first he was surprised to see the dropship overhead, with Stick behind the controls, but if he he had learned anything over the course of the past three years, it was to not questioning how his team did exactly what they did.

As the dropship took off a second time, a familiar wispy black form slipped away from the edge of the treeline.

* * *

Stick tapped the fuel gauge. The needle was dangerously close to the bright red E. He turned to his team, a dull ache filling his midsection as he did.

"What a surprise." He said sarcastically. "We're low on fuel." Thyst leaned over his shoulder and looked at at the fuel gauge.

"Think you can get us to Mantle?" Thyst asked.

"No." Stick answered plainly, as he looked at the slowly approaching shore of mainland Solitas. He coughed. "But I know a place."


	9. THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA (VI ChIX)

**[IX] The Old Man Of The Sea**

Tawney Lukoje's chestnut complexion made her look like she belonged somewhere where the sun shone bright and the air was warm, as opposed to the chill of Solitas. And to be honest, she would prefer to be somewhere like that. She was bundled up under a thick khaki overcoat that felt like it was made out of recycled old man pants. Her large, brown-furred ears were tucked warmly between the winter hat (whose pom-pom she found to be absurd) and her sandy colored hair, the longest tips of which just brushed against her ears. In this case, only the right ear faced constant tickling, as she had parted all of her hair to that side this morning. She stood at the end of the long walkway in front of her house. Technically, it belonged to the old man, Albatross. And technically, he wasn't her real dad, but he might as well be, even if their relationship was more like a master to apprentice type of deal. Tawney had lived here for more than the majority of her life. About… whatever percent five-ninths was, if she was being precise. She knew what happened to young girls without families in Vacuo. So she was grateful that the old man had taken her under his wing.

She shivered in the cold. But maybe he could have taken her under his wing… somewhere not as cold? For Tawney, ten years wasn't long enough to acclimate to the weather. She leaned on her shovel. For a place known for it's snow, she would think the people would learn to just walk over it, but no, here she was, shoveling the cobblestone again. She looked up when she heard an airship. To see an airship of any size in the skies over Drydock was a rare sight indeed. Anything people wanted was over in the east, at Atlas, hell, even in Mantle, occasionally. But not this far. Drydock was barely a dot on the map. In fact, she recalled, on most maps it wasn't even marked.

The airship's engines grew louder as it flew over the ironically wet docks that gave the town it's name. She laughed to herself. This had to be the most exciting day this month! An actual real life airship? She cast those sarcastic thoughts aside. She didn't often admit it, but she actually liked the quiet life here with the old man. She used to spend most of her days either helping around the house, or lending her hand on the old man's dainty little boat. Recently however, she'd found a job in the in the general store near the center of town. She liked to think she got the job due to her feminine charm. She nearly snorted, making herself laugh like that. Tawney sighed. Feminine charm? You gotta be kidding me, she thought. Though, honestly there was a good chance that in this town of sailors, a pretty face like herself probably brightened the decor a little. She burst out laughing again.

The airship's engines grew louder still. Tawney opened her eyes, from her bout of laughter, and looked up. The airship was flying startlingly low. She got a good look at it. This wasn't some private civilian transport. It was a military. Atlas military. Carrying some kind of… truck..? What was a military aircraft doing here? Surely it couldn't be anything good. To her astonishment, the aircraft slowed as it neared her.

The downdraft from the airship's engines blew loose snow around wildly as it flew overhead. She looked down the walkway she had just shoveled. Half of it was covered by a layer of snow, again.

"Aw, c'mon!" She exclaimed. "What the hell? I just finished!" She looked at the Atlesian aircraft. It was decending.

Right into her backyard.

Tawney ran around the side of the house, her mind racing. She knew the old man was a retired naval officer, but he was just that. Retired. What good was the fifty-nine year old man to the Atlesian military? Why were they here? These questions and more ran through her head as she watched the rear ramp to the aircraft opened. An unfamiliar and silver haired young man disembarked, leaping into the snow. His eyes were concealed by a visor of metal and blue glass, and his light grey jacket had a hood that Tawney noticed as he turned around. This wasn't an Atlesian soldier. Atlesian soldiers didn't wear sweatpants. The worry in her mind faded, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. A blindfolded woman followed him, landing in next to him. She wore a grey fur lined coat, but she was barefoot. Tawney though that was a bit dumb of her. Another young man leapt out of the aircraft. He was the shortest, she noted, shorter even than the barefoot woman. The only noteworthy clothes he wore were his loose purple jacket, and the single metal kneepad on his right leg. The fourth and final figure emerged from the airship, and dropped from the ramp. His scarf fluttered upwards as he fell. When he landed, his knees buckled under him, and the blindfolded woman had to catch and help him up. Back on solid footing, the fourth figure raised his head, and Tawney recognized his tall face. Then she noticed the blood soaked into his dark shirt.

The door to the house opened behind Tawney, and she heard the familiarly loud voice of Cpt. Albatross.

"Is that you, Brinewater?" He yelled with the staccato tone of issuing a command. She watched as Stick snapped to attention, before he coughed and bent over. "Come in, make yourself at home! ...no need to stand at attention, son. "

* * *

"Do your parents know you're back yet, Brinewater?" the old man asked, placing Stick's torn-up shirt back on the table. Ferris Albatross's greying hair held tightly to his younger days, refusing to let the man become anything other than a naturally vibrant redhead. Hints of orange still dotted the top of his head amongst the dull grey of age.

"Not yet." Stick said, from across the dining room table. Now, normally being shirtless at the table was unacceptable, but at the moment Stick had just finished tying a final bandage around his abdomen, so nobody brought it up.

"They might want to hear that their son is alright." the retired captain said. He looked at the bandages wrapped around the lower half of his guest's torso.

"...or alive, at least..." he corrected himself. "After what happened to Vale, the word floating around is that Atlas is two steps from locking down the entire kingdom."

Stick leaned over and rummaged through the dull, olive duffle bag on the floor next to his chair. After a moment, he pulled out a black tank top. He stood up by pushing himself out of the wooden seat. Once standing, Stick lifted his arms with a wince of pain, and pulled the article of clothing over his head. The fabric fit his slender frame tightly, and he let out a slow breath.

"I'll send them a letter." Stick finally responded. He gathered up the loose first aid kit and packed it back into the red canvas case he had taken it from. The captain said nothing. Stick handed the restored kit to Tawney, who stood beside him.

"Thank you." he said as he handed it off.

Tawney accepted the canvas case and spun on her heel. She passed through the empty doorway that led into the long hallway that extended from the from the dining room to the front door. She passed the white haired woman, standing in the doorway as she stepped into the hall. As Tawney walked past the young woman, she had the odd sensation of making eye contact with whatever eyes laid behind the blindfold. For someone who was blind, she sure did a lot of looking. Tawney looked the snake faunas up and down quickly. There weren't many faunas out here in Drydock. Her apparel said Mistral. But what Tawney wondered was if all women in Mistral wore their clothing so open, and revealingly. Probably not, she thought. The pale figure in front of her probably just didn't care what people saw. She was blind, after all.

Tawney slid the door to the coat closet open and placed the first aid kit on the floor next to her snow boots. She stood up and closed the sliding door slowly, and stretched to her full height, which wasn't that tall, in all honesty. She ran a hand through her sandy colored hair, then pressed the tall, tan furred ears that poked out from it down flat. They sprung back up the instant she let go and twitched.

A second hallway ran perpendicular to the the one she stood in. It started just before the staircase to the second floor and extended a dozen or so feet. It lead to the first floor bathroom, the guest room, and Albatross's bedroom. Up the stairs, the second floor had three rooms. A second bathroom, attic storage, and then Tawney's own bedroom. To her right, back on the first floor, was the living room, two couches set up in an L shape along back wall, with a coffee table fitting nicely in front of them both. A single cushioned chair in the opposite corner of the room. Next to the reclining chair, the television was set on a low wooden cabinet.

Tawney strolled back down the hall, and into the kitchen. The kitchen shared the same long space as the dining room, and the only marker to separate them was a granite countertop peninsula that extended into the center of the room from the back wall. The silver one stood leaning over the counter, from the dining room side. Albatross sat across from him, and examined the young man's (he couldn't be any more than a boy, Tawney was seventeen, and she still considered herself a girl…), blue stained glass visor.  
Tawney made her way to the fridge and opened the lower door. She scanned the shelves for a moment. Behind her, she heard the old man speaking.

"I've never seen one of these before, uh…" He snapped his fingers, as he tended to when he was trying to recall something. "Nickelas? That's your name?" the retired captain asked.

"Nickelas Mirino" the younger one answered, with a nod.

"Your parents happen to name you after the ol' Schnee?" Albatross asked.

"Nope," Nickelas said, shaking his head. "In fact, I actually spell it differently." Albatross nodded his head in understanding, and looked down at the piece of technology in his large, calloused hands.

You make this yourself?" He asked.

"I did." Nickelas answered. "You're holding the sixth model, right now." The old man's eyes widened.

"You made six of these things, by yourself?" He asked, "That's pretty impressive, son." A small smile spread on Nickelas's face.

"You should have seen the first one, sir." He said with sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Old headphones, some mirrors, a calculator… And a whole lot of gaff tape. I'll never forget all that gaff tape." Albtross winced slightly at the words.

"That tape is the work of pure evil." He said, handing the visor back to it's owner.

"Believe me, sir, I know." Nickelas said, the smile of recollection taking over his face.

* * *

Thyst put his fork down next to a now-empty plate.

"The food they served at Beacon was good, but I've never eaten anything quite like this, Tawney." He said, breathing deeply as he rested his hand against his stomach. "Albatross sure is lucky to have you here." Across the table, Stick held his stomach in a similar manner, but for a different reason. Tawney looked at Thyst from one end of the table.

"If I wasn't, I bet the old man would starve, honestly." Tawney said with a grin.

Albatross's laugh was deep from the other end of the table. He had the type of laugh that was naturally comforting to almost anyone who heard it. Once he was done chuckling, he closed his eyes and spoke.

"She speaks the truth, I'm afraid. Half of my younger years were living on Atlas's rations, after all." He said, waving his knife in the air as he spoke. Nickelas sat next to Thyst, his plate thoroughly cleaned, with a pleased look on his face. Across from him, Magnolia had left a small portion of her food on the plate. Her team still didn't know if she did this at meals because she had a small stomach, or if it was just a common practice she was raised with. Stick had started to think it was both.

"So, Mr. Albatross. Stick tells me that you're former Atlesian Navy..." Thyst began. The old man nodded.

"Though, I like to think that once I'm part of the Navy, I'm always part of the Navy. I never truly leave." Albatross interrupted.

"Of course." Thyst said, nodding, "How long, exactly, did you serve?"

"Well…" the retired soldier counted a bit in his head. "I officially joined the forces at eighteen, and was honorably discharged at thirty-two, so that means fourteen years, unless I'm mistaken." he mused on his life a moment, "I haven't worn the uniform for nearly twenty-two years… oh, how times flies…"

Thyst watched as the man began to sink into his own mind.

"If that's the case, sir, then how did you meet Stick, here?" Thyst asked, motioning towards Stick with his hand. Albatross shook his head, and focused.

"Ah, yes, well, technically I met Acheron, that's Mr. Brinewater, first." Albatross said. "I'm sure Stick has told you of his family business?" he inquired.

"The shipping and transportation company, yeah." Nickelas interjected.

"Right, 'Come Hell or Brinewater, we deliver'." Albatross recited, waving his knife through the air again. "I met Acheron Brinewater here in Drydock shortly after I moved here. See, we don't have many supplies out here, so most of the residents rely on the Brinewater company to deliver us simple things like the mail, or items to keep our stores stocked with anything but fish." he explained. "Eventually, I learned that the man who would deliver our supplies personally, had just helped his wife deliver something a bit more important than toilet paper and bread." he continued. "And that's the first time I heard about Stick. Then he started joining his dad on delivery jobs, all the way from Mantle. Long journey for a kid of his age…" Albatross leaned in and spoke in a half whisper. "...I think that's when his dad started letting him drive. And put him behind the wheel of such big trucks too…" Stick smiled as Albatross said this. Then Albatross sat back in his chair. With his eyes closed, he continued speaking. "Next time I saw Stick, really, was at the academy. I used to go and speak to the students occasionally. Haven't done that for years now, either…" Albatross reflected. "Then, well, I stopped seeing you for a while, Stick. Until I received word that you had gone to Beacon to finish your training." Albatross opened his eyes and looked at Stick. "Though, I'm a little disappointed you didn't make team leader, Stick." Albatross stared silently for a moment, then he chuckled. "I joke." He said. "I know enough about Headmaster Ozpin to know that he makes the the right choices. I'm sure he picked you for a good reason, Thyst."

Thyst nodded silently, and Albatross put his hands on his knees.

"Sorry we don't have any dessert to offer, but I'm sure you can understand that Tawney and I weren't expecting guests." Albatross said as he stood up from the table, taking his plate with him. He walked sideways to fit between Thyst, Nickelas, and the wall, passing the invisible barrier between dining room and kitchen. Albatross put the plate and silverware in the sink and gave them a preliminary rinsing under a few seconds of warm water.

"I'm curious to know what brought you here, but I won't ask. If I really need to know, then you'll tell me. For now, you four should get some sleep." Albatross looked at Stick a moment, "You look like you've had a rough day."

"A rough couple of weeks might be more accurate, sir." Nickelas said. Magnolia nodded in agreement.

"There's only one bed in the guest room." Tawney said, from her end of the table, "So you four are going to have to figure that situation out, yourselves."

* * *

Albatross was seated at the granite countertop on the kitchen side. He held his coffee in one hand and a novel in the other. Violet's Garden, it was called. It wasn't his usual taste in genres, but he admitted that this novel could be regarded as thought provoking, at times. After his retirement, he had taken up the hobby of reading to fill his time. Over the years, he had built up quite the pile of finished books. There was a certain pleasure to be had in immersing himself in the worlds that stories built for him. Not to mention to irresistible smell of print on paper. It was the scent of pure ecstasy. He heard floorboards creaking, and looked up from Violet's Garden. Stick was walking down the hall, towards the kitchen.

"Morning, Brinewater, you sleep well?" Albatross asked. Stick hadn't. He'd had trouble falling asleep the night before. The pain wasn't the problem either, his mind had just been agitated. He placed a hand over his wound and nodded, however.

"Well enough" Stick said, only half-lying "I'm already feeling better."

"Well, if you need it, I've made plenty of this life-giving liquid." Albatross said, swirling his coffee mug in the air.

"I'm fine, Albatross. Thank you." Stick said, as he sat on a the stool next to the retired captain, placing his elbows on the counter, and resting his head in his hands. Albatross returned to his book, taking a sip of coffee as he scanned the page to find where he had left off.

"You wouldn't happen to have any tools I could borrow around the house, would you?" Stick asked suddenly, turning his head to look at Albatross.

"Working on that dropship?" Albatross asked in return.

"That's the plan." Stick answered. Albatross nodded, looking out the window at the dark painted, unmarked Atlesian dropship. He wondered how Stick was able to get his hands on one of those models. Albatross took a sip from his coffee and pointed to under the kitchen sink.

"In there." the retired captain said. People were entitled to their secrets. If anybody knew that, it was Albatross.

"Thank you." Stick said, as he pushed himself up from the countertop.

"Though, those tools are more suited for repairing a washing machine." Albatross pointed out, without looking up from the book. "I'm not sure how much success you'll have with them, working on a beauty like that one you landed in my yard."

Stick squatted down in front of the pair of cabinets, and opened them.

"I'll make due." Stick said, searching through the tool box he found inside. "Thank you."

"No issue at all." Albatross said, sipping his coffee. Just then, another squeak come from down the hall. He looked up, and Nickelas was the next one to make their way into the kitchen.

"Good morning, sir." Nickelas said. Albatross pulled the bookmark from behind his ear, and slid it into the book.

"Morning, Nickelas." he said, as he placed his book on the counter and turned to face the new arrival. "Now, I appreciate all of your respect, son, but you're not one of my soldiers. You don't need to keep calling me sir."

"I'll keep that in mind, s-" Nickelas cut himself off. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

Nickelas approached the counter top, sitting opposite from the retired captain. Albatross watched as the silver haired boy took off his small bag, and removed the visor from yesterday.

"Do you mind if I plug this in?" Nickelas asked.

"Go ahead." Albatross answered. He watched as Nickelas pulled out a long, white cable. He plugged one end into a wall socket, and the other, smaller end into the piece of advanced mobile technology.

"Thank you." Nickelas said, "It hasn't charged properly in nearly two weeks." Albatross nodded. Quite a long battery life, he noted. This little device was becoming ever more impressive the more he learned about it. Nickelas placed the visor on the countertop and sat down.

"So, Thyst and I were talking, and we decided it would only be fair that we told you a bit about why we're here." Nickelas said. Albatross nodded, putting his coffee down.

"I'm listening." the old captain said.

"Well," Nickelas began, "Normally, it would be outside of our jurisdiction to come this far north for any missions, but without the CCT, we couldn't exactly hand off the information we had gathered to Atlas, so we considered the options and the risks, and… long story short, sir, we had a lead, and we came here to deal with a certain Grimm threat." Nickelas summarized. "You know about the islands to the west of here?" He asked.

"I'm a fisherman, now, Nickelas. Of course I know about the islands in the sea." Albatross said.

"Yes, yes, of course…" Nickelas mumbled, "I should have assumed that…" He look at Stick, who was currently halfway under the sink. "What was the man's name again, Stick?"

"Reed." Stick answered. "Think of him as an entrepreneur."

"Yes well, this, this Reed, he told us, well, he told Stick, that some of his men had gone missing near one of the islands on the way back from signing a deal in Mantle, that they had been attacked by some kind of 'big Beowolf'".

"Sounds like Fenrir, to me." Albatross said.

"Fenrir?" Nickelas asked.

"Oh, just an old sailor's tale," Albatross answered. "We use it to keep people away from Wedgewood Island. If that refueling station ever started up again, it'd pollute the water. Polluted water means no fish, and no fish means the majority of Drydock has no income. Of course, I had always thought it was just a story. Are you telling me that six legged horror is real?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, s-" Nickelas said, catching himself before he finished the last word. "And if not, I think Stick's injury is proof enough?"

Albatross was silent for a moment.

"I think I can put the rest of the story together myself, Nickelas." Albatross said, then took a sip from his coffee. "Thank you."

Nickelas smiled, and sat silently for a few moments. Then he stood up, leaving his visor on the counter, and walked around the countertop to where Stick was emerging from under the sink.

"What are you now, a plumber?" Nickelas asked.

Stick stood up, carrying a metal box by it's handle. He handed Nickelas a wrench with his other hand.

"No, but you're about to be my junior mechanic." Stick said.

"We're the same age!" Nickelas exclaimed. Stick didn't respond.

"Would you be so kind as to get the door, Magnolia?" Stick asked.

"Certainly." Magnolia voice said from behind Albatross. The captain spun around, and found himself a few inches from the girl's white hair. His eyes darted to the hallway, then back to the white haired girl. How did she..? But the floorboards always squeaked…

"Oh, everyone's already awake." Thyst said, coming down the hall. "Nice." The floorboards squeaked under his feet. "Good morning, Mr. Albatross."

"Yeah…" the old man said, distractedly, "Good morning…"

* * *

With all four members of team TSNM outside, and Tawney still presumably asleep upstairs, Albatross once again sat alone with his coffee and his book. Albatross looked out the window at the team. He watched as they moved about, crowded around the dropship, working and laughing amongst themselves. Maybe he shouldn't have told them the Grimm's name, maybe he should've played dumb. He put the Violet's Garden novel down, closed his eyes, and sighed. These were four, clearly skilled Huntsmen. He didn't need to treat them like children. So they know about Fenrir, he thought. At least they got off the island alive, people who went to Wedgewood didn't normally come back at all. Of course Fenrir was real, Albatross knew that for a fact, long before the story had started circulating. He had started it himself. So what if they had encountered the Grimm, as far as they were concerned, this was an isolated incident. Fenrir was just an anomaly. They didn't know the full story. They didn't realize how much larger than them this whole thing really was. Albatross opened his eyes, and his gaze fell on Nickelas's visor.

His hand extended compulsively outward, and hovered above the device.

He pressed the button Nickelas had shown him, to turn it on. The inside of the glass came to life with little markings of light, impossible to read from this angle. His finger slid along the controls, until he found the next button he was looking for. His breathing was steady, as he pressed it. The markings on the visor blurred, then after a second's delay, a cone of light projected the visors contents into the space in front of Albatross, suspended holographically.

He saw a word he had prayed that he wouldn't.

"Lullaby…" He whispered, his voice wavering. There had to be some explanation. These couldn't be real. He tried opening one of the files. It contained garbled, unreadable text. He went back, and opened another file. The same thing. So they hadn't read anything…

Nickelas had said he had he could communicate through the visor, right? So it had a microphone. Albatross could check. If these were real then he could check who had accessed them.

Albatross steadied his breathing once more and gulped, composing himself.

"OIA, this is Captain Albatross, Atlesian Navy. Authentication code five-one-november-six, dash, tango-zero, dash, uniform-five."

For a moment, nothing happened while Albatross looked on in silence. Then slowly, the digital files began to shift, of their own accord, before his very eyes. The files moved across the screen, coalescing into a single mass in the center the projection, to form a small, pulsating dot of light. The small monotone female voice that came through Nickelas's visor was unfortunately familiar. The mere sound of the voice confirmed Albatross's fears.

"Greetings Captain." the voice said, from the visor. "How may I assist?"

"Oia, what is your assigned designation?" Albatross asked the light.

"I have no current designation." the visor responded. Albatross was ready with the follow up question before the visor had finished speaking.

"What was your previous designation, before the transfer?" he asked

"My last assigned designation was 'Hourglass', Captain." the visor answered,

"When were you last accessed?"

"I underwent an unauthorized transference to an unrecognized system twenty three days ago, however, I was not activated."

"Who was the last person to access you?" He asked, then before the light could respond, he added, "Before the unauthorized transfer?"

"Colonel Willis is currently Missing in Action."

Albatross felt the tug of memories. He had liked Willis.

"Oia, mark Colonel Willis as KIA."

"Notation complete."

"Thank you, Oia."

"You are welcome, Captain."

If Willis was the last person to access this OIA, then that meant- Albatross heard the back porch steps groaning. Damn, he loved this old house. The footsteps grew closer, as they approached the door from outside.

"Oia," Albatross said urgently, "Lockdown, now."

"Aye, Captain. Entering Lockdown state." The ball of light responded, quietly dissipating, and separating into the appearance of multiple files once more. Albatross was able to turn the visor off, slid it across the counter, and pick up his book, just in time for the door to open behind him.

"You were right, Captain." Stick's voice said from the open door. "These tools don't work for jackshit."

Albatross turned around, and kept his composure.

"Hm..?"

"Is that hardware store - you know the slogan… 'So you won't get screwed over' - are they still open?" Stick asked. Albatross looked up, and scanned all four of their faces.

"Yes… They are." the old captain said. "But, we need to talk first."


	10. TRADE SECRETS (VI ChX)

**[X] Trade Secrets**

The air hung still in the silent kitchen. The four young Huntsmen stood, gathered around the retired Atlesian naval captain, who had so graciously taken them in as unquestioned guests.

"I should have told you all of this last night…" Albatross began "...especially you, Stick. But none of you were in the condition to have something more to worry about." He took a sip of his coffee and then a deep breath.

"Your father' company hasn't delivered last week's shipments yet, Stick." Albatross said, "you know he's a stickler for schedule, so he would never bring them more than a day late, let alone a three days late. We have plenty of supplies to last us the next two weeks, but, I'm getting worried something might have happened."

Stick looked on, his face showing no signs of change.

"Your father doesn't make the deliveries himself anymore, so I would be willing to put money down that he's unharmed." Albatross continued, "But something clearly happened, and I don't like leaving things unanswered."

Thyst nodded.

"I don't either." Thyst said.

"...and we arrived just in time to get you those answers." Nickelas said. The old captain nodded.

"I can't order you to do anything, you're an independent-" Albatross was interrupted.

"We'll do it." Thyst said. Albatross looked up at the Huntsman. They all nodded in agreement.

"Can we have maybe have some breakfast, first?" Nickelas asked.

* * *

Thyst watched Nickelas clamber into the dropship. There was a delay, then the engines came alive. The dropship tilted forward, but didn't lift off from the ground. There was a thunk, as the magnetic lock disengaged, and the buggy dropped a couple of feet onto the snowy ground. A moment after, Stick entered the vehicle and started the engine. The buggy moved in reverse, and cleared out from beneath the dropship. Stick tapped the horn twice, and in response, the dropship lowered to its original position.

The dropship was still without enough fuel to warrant use on this mission, and team TSNM wasn't about to drain any of the already low supplies from the people of Drydock. The buggy, however still had enough fuel to last a few days. Not to mention, an unmarked Atlesian dropship would only raise suspicion, and possibly fear, which was the last thing they needed to spread.

Nickelas stepped off the back ramp of the dropship and rejoined the team. He was still thinking about breakfast. He didn't recall either Stick or Magnolia ever explaining when or where they had learned to cook. Though, Magnolia's forte leaned more towards baking than cooking, she still outskilled his own skill with food, which ended at cup noodles and toaster waffles. Granted, he did know how to make some killer mac and cheese.

"You coming, Nick?" Thyst said, from the rear of the buggy. Nickelas looked up from the ground, and his thoughts of food.

"I will give you a damn horse to hold." Nickelas said, as he climbed into the seat across from Thyst.

"I don't think you have a horse to give." Thyst responded.

"I will find a horse!" Nickelas exclaimed. "Stick, does Solitas have any horses?" Stick turned around slowly in his seat.

"No…" he said, almost nervously. Nickelas entered a state of deep thought, and Stick turned back to the wheel. The buggy began a slow trip around to the front of the old captain's wide house. Stick pulled the buggy up onto the road, then parked it. He turned to face his team, leaving his bandaged arm on the steering wheel, and placing his other arm on the passenger side seat.

"Alright kids," he had to stop so he could cough, "last call for bathrooms."

No one was visibly amused.

"Suit yourselves." Stick said, putting the buggy back into drive.

Drydock was small, so it wasn't long before they were outside of town's unmarked border. The roads this far from the capital city were not so much roads, as they were months and years of snow packed firmly into the dirt. From the sky it would be difficult to see, but from the ground, the man made trails were clearly indented. Stick felt the familiar road beneath the wheels, following his memories more than he followed his eyes.

Nickelas slid his visor over his eyes, painting the entire world a faint hue of blue. He pulled up the hood of his jacket, against the cold rush of air. To go from the desert to the arctic in less than a month, he thought. What an adventure. He reached behind his ear and turned the device on, watching little lights spring into existence in front of his eyes. He pursed his lips and let out a small 'hm'. It seemed he had left the Lullaby files open. Nickelas shook his head. It didn't matter. He settled into his seat for the long, cold ride.

Thyst sat across from him, and sorted restlessly through the Dust tipped bolts he carried. For the fourth time today, no, just this morning.

"Something bothering you, Thyst?" Nickelas asked, "You're normally fidgety, but this is a bit much."

Thyst put the bolts back into their small quiver-case. He looked up.

"That Grimm, Fenrir, right?" he asked. Nickelas nodded. "It's just bothering me. We left it there."

"I get it." Nickelas said, leaning forward. "I don't think we can just leave it either, but… You saw what it did to us."

Thyst nodded.

"That's what bothers me. We need help, but we're not about to get it from a Kingdom that's on the verge of locking itself down." Thyst said, "We can't just show up to Atlas's front door, and expect assistance."

Nickelas laughed.

"Imagine their reactions when we show up and start raving about zombies!" Nickelas exclaimed.

"Yeah. About that, you mind actually telling me what's going on about these zombies?" Thyst asked. Stick groaned from the front seat.

"They weren't zombies." He said, forcefully.

"They seemed like zombies to me." Magnolia said from the passenger seat, where she was bundled up in a new coat, from the surplus of coats on the coatrack in Albatross's house.

"They weren't zombies…" Stick insisted in a quieter tone.

* * *

Tawney came down the stairs to the smell of breakfast, and the sound of the sink running. Whatever the smell was, she thought, while she swung around the final post on the side of stairs. On the morning she slept late, the old man would cook his own breakfast, but whatever this was, it sure smelled better than what he normally was capable of making.

Oh, right, she realized as she entered the kitchen. Stick and his team. We have guests.

Albatross turned when he heard her footsteps. He had been rinsing out a mug, so he could put in in the open dishwasher to his left. Tawney sighed when she saw the apron he was wearing.

"Kissing the Cook would be Considered Fraternization" it read in bold letters. Why did she ever show him that he could order that thing..?

"Morning, Tawney." the old man said, "I'm glad to see you're sleeping through the night again." Tawney nodded, still a little drowsy.

"And a bit through the morning." she added. The old man chuckled, and closed the dishwasher. He brought a plate from the counter over and placed it on the countertop of the granite peninsula.

"Stick and his lady friend made sure to save you some." He said, as he took off the apron, hanging in on a hook he had attached to the side of one of the overhead cabinets, attached specifically for the apron. He wore it all the time now, simply for the fact that he knew Tawney regretted showing him how to buy it.

"I'll be sure to thank them," she said, placing a forkful of food into her mouth, then started chewing it. "Where uh…" she swallowed the food, and continued "Where are they, by the way?"

"I mentioned that we hadn't received our regular shipments in a week, and then they offered to look into it." Albatross explained. "I didn't expect them to go so quickly, though."

Tawney continued eating. Albatross pointed out the window. "They'll be back soon, I'm sure." he said, "They left their dropship in our backyard."

The captain left the window above the sink, and walked a few feet in the opposite direction, until he stood in front of the door beneath the stairs to the second floor.

"I'm going into the cellar for a bit." the old man said, as he opened the door. Tawney looked up at him.

"Should I expect to hear the table saw?" she asked.

"No," the old man answered. "I'm just seeing if I still have something."

Tawney knew he was going into his "office" downstairs. Though, to be honest, she didn't know what was behind that door. She respected the old man enough to not break his privacy when he asked. There couldn't be anything that amazing hidden in an old pantry of an unfinished basement.

Albatross descended the unpainted wooden boards that served as the stairs into the cellar. He had to deal with occasional flooding down here, so he never bothered to furnish the cold cement of the floor and walls of the cellar. Half of the basement was sparsely arranged into a workshop, where Albatross would work wood and metal into the various thing he needed at the time. But today, he went to the right, and came to a plain wooden door. He pulled a key out of his pocket, and placed it in the lock on the doorknob. It unlocked with a click, and he entered the small room. It wasn't the most well proportioned room in the house. Afterall, it was originally built as a pantry. He closed the door behind him and came face to face with a cork board. Pictures littered the board like a conspiracy theory, and it took up almost an entire wall. Beneath it, there was a simple metal desk, with an old computer set up, the monitor half buried in manila folders. Albatross scanned the photo-covered board.

In one photo, the scene was that of a forest, with trees of blackened wood. At the center of the forest, a single tree rose taller than the others, it's thick trunk dominating the horizon. Above it, Nevermores floated, suspended in the moment captured within the photo. A label accompanied the photo, reading "The Gallows". Under this photo, the old captain's eyes drifted to the unlabeled line of soldiers captured in another photo. He placed two fingertips on the photo silently. Once more, his eyes drifted to another picture. In this featured a lone figure, whose body was almost entirely white. It's right arm was much longer than its left, and ended in a point. The entire figure was extremely blurred by visible motion. A second photo of a similar figure was pinned directly next to the first. The figure was not much larger than a normal man, this picture revealed. But the blurry and out of focus corpses strewn about its feet showed it was clearly not any kind of normal man. The only thing underneath these photos were the numbers '10-95'.

Albatross tore his silent gaze from the photo and found the one he was looking for. The image was clear, and the viewer could pick apart the separate branches on the trees. But if they looked at the photo, they'd notice the long, slender form of an animal, or more accurately, a Grimm, just beyond the foreground. It was the only part of the image that wasn't sharply defined, the Grimm's body seeming to fade into smoke, the only solid objects that could be seen were its sharp angled canine mask, and the line of white that spread down it's spine. The other noticeable detail was that the hazy figure appeared to have six legs. The label beneath it read "Fenrir." Of course Albatross knew Fenrir was real. He knew it long before the story had started circulating. Because he had started its circulation, himself.

"So they found you." the old captain said to the picture. "...and they survived."

Albatross shuffled through the manila folders on the desk.

"But what did they do to your friend at Hourglass?" the captain asked the photo of Fenrir.

Upstairs, Tawney finished eating, and rinsed off her plate.

* * *

The window was shattered, and jagged shards of glass clung to the rusted, peeling metal of the window's frame. Nickelas noted the broken window, and reduced the zoom on his visor to encompass the entire courtyard.

"Picking up any movement?" Thyst asked. Nickelas lifted the visor from his forehead and looked at his team leader. The two of them were crouched on top of a snowy hill, hiding behind the loosely knit pine treeline that rose with slope of the hill.

"The courtyard's clear. But I can't say I know what's inside those buildings." Nickelas answered.

Down the hill and across the unpaved road, the husks of oversized industrial buildings sat within the confines of a tall, gated wire fence.

"It's a shame to see all this hard work rusting away." Nickelas muttered to himself.

About ten minutes ago, Thyst had seen something shining in the snow, while they were still driving. He had Stick stop the buggy, then he got out to investigate. The piece of metal reflected sunlight differently than the snow, but it was miracle he had seen it. When Thyst found what had been creating the shining he'd seen, he bent down and lifted the brass casing from the snow. That alone was curious.

He had called Stick over, to double checked that the bullet casing in his hand was a 9mm. Stick pulled his new handgun from his belt, and removed the magazine, holding it out for Thyst to see.

"They're 9mm's." Stick had said, nodding his head affirmatively. Thyst considered the casing, and what it could mean, to no avail, until Nickelas pointed out the tracks Thyst was currently standing in the center of. At this random point in the road, footprints had appeared suddenly, and the freshest pair of tire tracks had stopped abruptly. Then they could be followed making a wide turn around, and back in the direction they had come. When the mine came into view, only thirty seconds after they had left the scene, Stick had veered off the road, and stopped the buggy in the woods. No clue could go ignored.

Thyst stared at the fenced-off structures from their vantage point. He was looking at what was clearly a mining facility, owned, or at least formerly owned, by Schnee Dust. He sighed. Mining facilities didn't have a good place in his memory.

"Stick said it was two trucks?" Thyst asked.

"He said his dad sends two to Drydock, every time." Nickelas answered. Thyst did some math quickly in his head.

"If they drove the trucks back to the mining facility, then we're dealing with at least two guys. But I doubt that this was a two man operation. Highway robbery takes muscle. We could be seeing an entire gang set up in that place." Thyst said. Nickelas looked down at the gate. It was locked, and by studying the tire tracks, it hadn't been opened in days.

"They must be living quite the life, with a town's worth of supplies…" Nickelas said. He flipped the visor down and surveyed the site one last time.

"Your call." he said.

* * *

The gap between the gate was just large enough for Stick to fit his hand through. He did so, and grabbed hold of the padlock chained to both sides of the gate holding it closed. He had suggested they just ram the gate with the buggy, but Magnolia had suggested a more tactical approach to the situation. He grasped the padlock, and within seconds, it had split into multiple pieces and fallen apart, onto the ground. The chain that held the gate together swung free, and Stick opened the gate to let his team slip through. Once everyone was through, Stick bent down and picked up all the pieces. Then, in the same manner as the padlock had fallen apart, Stick reassembled the small item in his hand, and refitted it to the chains on the gate. Then he joined the rest of his team. tanding in the shadow of a the first building on the left. Nickelas was already explaining the layout of the building, all from a single broken window.

"...multiple shelves, some kind of storage." He whispered. "Two figures inside, rifles. One of them, by the door, he looks like he's asleep. No actual door, I can see into the next room. This one's big. Yeah, really big. Pick up truck. Three of them. Five men. Rifles and some pistols." He said. "...and… there's the transport trucks we're looking for. Damn, Stick, your dad's trucks are big…" he continued. "There's a catwalk surrounding the main garage. I see another four on it, more guns. And… Wow, that's a big guy." Nickelas said. "Yeah, Thyst. That's more than two."

Thyst scanned the building from top to bottom, then he turned back to his team.

"I'm going in there, and I'm gonna see how many I can get down before they notice." Thyst explained. "I doubt I'll make it to the main room before guns start going off, so Magnolia, Nickelas, you too be ready to come in whatever way you see fit, the moment that happens." He pointed to them as he said this. "Stick, I need you out here. If things go bad, I need you on the gate, so we can bolt. If things go well, then you take down anyone who tries to run, and I can almost bet you, they will try."

They nodded in agreement and Thyst stood up. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, and a bright bolt of electricity arced through the broken window.

* * *

He pulled the cigarette from his lips and blew out a small cloud of smoke. The guy in charge here might not like smoking, but that wouldn't stop me, he thought, as he took another drag. The big guy hadn't come back here since the first day, so why would he now? He blew a cloud of smoke out again. But when he went to breathe, he felt the hand cover his nose and mouth an instant later. He reached, in panic for the weapon he had leaned against the wall, while he smoked, but was unable to reach it. He tried to call for help, but another, cold, metallic presence closed around his neck, and he couldn't breathe, let alone yell. The terror gripped him as he was pulled backwards from where he had been standing. As he started to lose consciousness, all he could see was a hand, and purple stained metal.

Thyst let the man down slowly onto his back. One down. He pressed his foot down on the man's discarded cigarette butt, and smothered it out. Who next? He made his way down the shelved hallways, and towards the door Nickelas had mentioned. Thyst could see the man, sitting in a folding chair, fast asleep, from here, his rifle across his lap. Another easy target.

As Thyst approached, he heard footsteps and stopped. They were on the other side of the wall, but they were approaching the door. Thinking quickly, he crouched and pressed himself between two of the crates on the lower shelf. He peered out over it, and watched the sleeping man.

A rifle butt smacked him on the side of the head, and he nearly fell out of his chair, as he jolted awake.

"Come on, ya lazy fatass. Get up." an unidentified voice said. "Boss made sure the Schnees expect two Brinewater trucks tomorrow morning, at sunrise, so we gotta get movin'. Go open the gate." The rudely awakened man look up at the unseen figure.

"You got the only key, why don't you go open the damn thing?" He growled. A single key on a keyring fell into his lap.

"Now it looks you got the only key. Get your ass movin'." the unseen voice retorted. The sitting man swore, and stood up, extending his middle finger and aiming it somewhere Thyst couldn't see. Thyst came out of hiding as the man walked away to approach the nearest door that led outside. Thyst hustled and made it to the corner, where he could continue to watch the man. He watched as the man grumbled and grabbed the door handle. He opened the door to reveal Nickelas, who stood crouched in the snow. The Huntsman's eyes widened.

"What the fu-" He began, but was cut short, as the silver haired Huntsman lunged forward and swung Argent at him. Sandwiched between a sheet metal wall and a shield, the man blacked out, the key clattering to the floor. Nickelas looked up.

"Whoops."

Gunfire erupted at the doorway, and Nickelas rose his shield to defend himself, projecting a wide barrier. He turned and saw Thyst a few feet away.

"Oh, hey. I know you said to wait, but that wasn't my fault." Nickelas said, as the barrier consumed a barrage of bullets. Thyst walked past Nickelas and loaded a bolt into Indra. He took aim and fired at the closest pair of men. The bolt struck the ground at their feet, the Dust erupting. Their clothes were set ablaze, and the moment they realized that, they dropped their guns and fell to the ground, doing as they were taught, to stop, drop, and roll. To Thyst, it was actually quite comical to watch.

On the catwalk above, the largest man in the group finished loading a belt of bullets into a machine gun, which he then braced against the railing. His hair was cropped, high and tight, and he had a scar running the entire length of his jaw on the left side. He trained the iron sights on the pair of figures at the door and was a moment from pulling the trigger when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face whoever it was, but the only thing he saw was a foot, hurtling towards his face. The familiar sensation of pain shot through his face, as his head whipped to the side, and he fell face first into the metal railing he was leaning on. His machine gun fell from his grasp, and onto the cabin of one of the pick-up trucks, where it left a sizable dent, before tumbling into the metal bed in the rear of the truck. He gathered himself, and stood up. With a single hand, he set his jaw back where it belonged. and his tongue around his mouth. He looked to the side and spit blood onto the metal catwalk. He turned to face his attacker. She was shorter than him, but that wasn't saying much. As he watched, she stood straight backed, and cast off a worn grey coat, tossing it over the railing. Underneath, she revealed the white kimono. It was very well made, gold trim, red detailing in the shape of flowers, and the glossy sheen of expensive materials. A real shame, he thought. This wasn't an outfit for combat.

"My, my…" he said, "Ain't you a pretty one." He reached under his left arm with his right hand. "Almost makes me feel bad that I need'a kill you for getting in the way." He pulled the knife from his armored vest, and swung it at her.

Magnolia blocked the wide swing with her forearm, then grabbed his wrist. Shifting her footing, she turned, and drove her other elbow into his ribcage. When he bent forward from the strike, she came up and kneed him in the jaw, letting go of his arm and sending him teetering backwards. He didn't go down, and corrected his balance with surprising swiftness.

"Oh, now you hit hard, girl…" he said, widening his stance. "Now I won't feel as bad for hitting you."

He ran at Magnolia again, thrusting forward with the blade. She jumped backwards, avoiding the attack, when he followed through with a downward slash, she sidestepped, but met the wall behind her. This walkway was narrow. She either went back, or she had to go forward. The man slashed upwards, and Magnolia leaned to the side. He followed that attack with a horizontal slash, that she ducked under. She came up behind the strike, and pushed the man's right arm into the wall, twisting his entire body. As she did, he changed his grip on the knife, and swing it backwards at Magnolia, she turned just in time to notice the shift. She tried to lean backwards, but the blade caught her upper-arm. She leaned back, a little too far, and felt herself falling over the railing. She tipped over the edge, and the man smiled.

Until Magnolia's white scaled tail wrapped around the top bar of the railing and swung her back up, her feet colliding with the man's chest. She adjusted her ankles, and kicked off, to the side, doing a single flip, and landing on the catwalk again. Palewind Fangs slide into her grip from her sleeves, and she held the knives out. Her entire body swayed slowly from side to side. The man came at her with a slash, but she deflected it with one blade, and caught the redirected strike with the other knife's hook. With the first knife, she thrust and stabbed the man in the side. He growled in pain, but didn't weaken. They traded blows for a few moments, until finally, he pushed Magnolia off, and with his shoulder, sent her flying back a few feet. She landed gracefully, and her swaying continued. As she did, her knives shifted, and the man watches a pair of fans opened in front of her. She held one facing downward, and the second covered her face.

He approached her slowly, waiting for her guard to drop. There was a stand-off for a few seconds, where neither of them moved. Then she suddenly whipped his arm out to the side, and the top fan with it. In the brief moment before her attack, the man lunged for her throat with his knife. With a simple upwards flick of her wrist, the lower fan connected with the man's knife, sending it to the side, and forcing him to stab the wall. With his free hand he reached to block her, before her other arm could come down to complete its attack. He successfully blocked her arm, but the attack still hit him. He tail, covered in metal plates, and the solid circle of metal at the end, connected with his back, and left a deep gash, just above his waist. He stumbled from the catwalk, leaving his knife embedded in the wall, then he tipped, and fell over the railing. He fell, and slammed into the cabin of the same pick up truck as his gun, rolling off, and landing face down, unmoving on the cement floor. Magnolia let Palewind Fangs collapse back into knives, and retreat into her sleeves. She heard the two familiar gunshots, of Thyst's gun and watched the shape of another man on the catwalk slump forward on the railing, then fall backwards, to lay on the catwalk. She counted out the remaining three on the catwalk with her.

"Open the damn door!" A man yelled from the ground, as he hid behind one of the pick up trucks. His only remaining ally looked nervously around, and found the button above him. He slammed his fist into it, and the metal door to their right began to slide up.

"C'mon, the trucks ain't worth it. I wanna-" the first man said, just as a one of his other friends fell from the catwalk and onto the hood of the truck in front of him. "...live… Run!" he yelled, and sprinted from the opening. He made it maybe ten feet, before Thyst clotheslined him and her fell with a thump onto the ground.

The last member of the gang dropped his weapon and held his hands in the air.

"Hey man…" he stuttered nervously, as he emerged from behind the other truck. "I-I don't wanna die, man… What do you want, I'll tell you anything, man… Boss just wanted some Dust before the embargo, we gotta rule the black market, ya know?" he laughed nervously. "I really don't wanna d-" He turned around suddenly as an engine started behind him. One of the pick-ups came full speed from where it was parked, and plowed into him. He tumbled across the hood, and rolled to the side, as the truck with a dented cabin peeled out of the garage, and took off into the snow. Thyst and Nickelas were barely able to dive out of the way in time.

Magnolia landed softly on the garage floor, and approached the man. She knelt by him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, flipping him over. He was still breathing.

"I am so sorry…" she said. She stood up.

The man she had fought was no longer on the ground. He had survived the fall. She should have known not to leave the execution up to gravity, for gravity was a fickle mistress.

The truck turned sharply in the snow and the engine was pushed to the absolute limit. The tires spun uselessly for a moment, then the truck shot forward, straight for the chained gate. Stick looked at the oncoming vehicle, and had no time to react, as it sped past him and into the gate. In the instant before the truck smashed through the gate, he made brief eye contact with the man inside.

On the road, he was free. There was no way any of them could catch him on foot. He chuckled. He had made it out alive… Assuming the Boss let him live for fucking up the operation. He settled into the seat, for the long ride. Then he heard the sound of a second engine. He adjusted the rearview mirror and looked down the road behind him. Nothing. He turned around, and looked from side to side. Nothing. What he hearing something? The the underbrush of the hill above him burst, and a truck launched itself into the road in front of him. What the fuck kinda car was that..? It was just a cage with big wheels.

"The hell..?" he muttered, flooring the gas pedal. He turned the wheel, and rode up onto the hill, driving off the road, and around the other vehicle.

In the time it took Stick to readjust the buggy and follow the man, the man had gained a significant lead again.

"So much for my badass entrance…" Stick muttered as the chase continued.

The man looked up in his mirror again, and saw the truck gaining on him once more. Whatever that thing had for an engine, it was beast. But he had a solution. He reached onto one of the straps on his vest and pulled a small fist sized item from it, then rolled down the pickup truck's window. He brought the small item to his mouth and bit something, pulling it off, then, dropped the item out the window. He spat the metal pin into the passenger seat, and kept driving.

Stick saw the object drop from the window, and realized what it was a moment too late. He tried to swerve, but as he turned the wheel sharply, and explosion shook his senses. He felt the world shift around him, then he came to a sudden halt, and everything was on it's side.

* * *

When Thyst, Nickelas, and Magnolia found Stick down the road, they were relieved to find him standing next to the flipped buggy. They had heard the explosion and feared the worse. Stick didn't have a good track record with explosives. As they drew closer they saw he was clutching his forehead. Magnolia filled the space between him and the buggy,

"Stick, are you alright?" she asked. He lifted his other hand from the side, stepped to the left of Magnolia and leveled his hand to point at the underside of the buggy. He flung his hands into the air, then let them fall at his side.

"He fucked up my driveshaft." Stick muttered.

* * *

Nickelas sat behind the wheel of one of the Brinewater transport trucks. Stick was driving the other truck, just ahead of Nickelas, and was towing the broken buggy.

"We didn't find the bodies." Nickelas said, "I couldn't handle breaking the news to their families, but we need to at least know what happened to the drivers." He said, opening his hands on the steering wheel. "They were innocent people."

Thyst stared out the window at the horizon, rushing along next to them as they drove.

"We spent two hours searching, Nickelas. We checked very building. They're not there." he said. There was silence between them. Nickelas sighed and looked off into the distance. Then he turned to Thyst again.

"At least we'll be back in time for dinner."

* * *

The sight of the trucks coming into town filled the town with sounds of rejoice. When Stick and Nickelas parked the trucks out front of Albatross's house, crowds swarmed to thank them for what they had done. Stick smiled and nodded, but tried his best to avoid the attention. Nickelas walked into the crowd, and drew their attention, telling his own, slightly embellished story of reclaiming the trucks. He looked back and winked at Stick, who in return, thanked him without a word, and slunk around the back of the truck.

Stick had left the truck running so whoever was in charge could take it where it had to go, while he, with the help of Thyst, detached the buggy, and pushed it up Albatross's driveway. Once they had exerted themselves, and successfully made it to the top of the driveway, Thyst left to help Nickelas deal with the crowd of dangerously grateful townspeople. Stick took a seat on Albatross's front steps, and Magnolia joined him, where they sat silently.

The front door opened and Tawney looked down at them. Stick coughed.

"Oh. You're back." she said. She then walked back inside the house and closed the door behind her.


	11. FLIGHT CHECK UNDERTONES (VI ChXI)

**[XI] Flight Check Undertones**

"How's it coming along, under there?" Thyst's voice asked from behind Stick.

The buggy was raised off the ground, in the middle of the Drydock's mechanic garage. The garage was attached to the rear of the local hardware store, and was normally empty, most of the time. For the past week, however, team TSNM's new vehicle had the small cement building all to itself.

Stick stepped out from his crouched position under the vehicle's raised frame.

"Just finished, actually. After Ms. Rite sent the order back to Mantle with my dad's trucks, and it arrived, the repair itself was easy." he paused and looked up at the buggy. I may have done a few extra things while I was waiting for the pieces though..." Stick said, clapping two grease covered hands together. His sleeves were rolled up, and the skin on his right arm was covered in black smudges. Thyst nodded.

"Good to hear." he said, looking down at Stick's left arm. "And… I think you might want to change those bandages." Stick's left sleeve didn't exist from the elbow down anymore, and the bandages on that arm were also stained black with grease. Stick looked down at his arm, flipping it over and looking at both sides.

"Oh, yeah." he said. "I'll do that when I get back to Albatross's. Now help me get this thing down." he said, approaching the lift controls.

* * *

"Magnolia."

Magnolia acknowledged her name with a short "hm". She could sense Tawney sitting down on the couch to her left.

"I've been wondering these past few days, Magnolia…" Tawney said. "If you're… Uh, you know…"

"Blind?" Magnolia asked.

"Yeah, that." Tawney said. Magnolia smiled. Tawney continued. "If you are, then… how are you aware of what you're drawing?"

Magnolia shrugged.

"I wish I had a simple answer for you, Tawney." she said. Tawney absentmindedly rubbed her own neck. She stared down at her guest's sketchbook on the coffee table.

"Do you mind if I…" Tawney started, but before she could finish, Magnolia spun the open book to face Tawney.

"Thanks." Tawney mumbled. The various pencil marks took the shape of what Tawney could easily recognize as a Grimm. It had a long, curved body, for a Beowolf. And a bit too many legs, now that she looked at it. Magnolia had drawn it with its mouth open, and thick black smoke poured from the sharply fanged jaws. Every detail was captured in stunning sharpness.

"I may not be able to see, Tawney, but I'm not blind, like you think." Magnolia said. Tawney turned pages of the sketchbook. A dragon… she scanned the page, at the bottom, in all caps, Magnolia had written "A WYVERN". Tawney looked up the page at the wyvern.

"It's… your art is very nice." Tawney said. Magnolia smiled again, and thanked her. Tawney flipped the page again, and looked at a picture of a lone, and fluffy bird, perched on a branch, whose leaves were in the middle of falling to the ground. She turned the page once more and found a drawing of a centipede. Or, something that kind of looked like a centipede. Little people were drawn beside it for scale. This centipede was a very large Grimm if it actually existed, which Tawney doubted it did.

"What are you girls up to?" the old captain's voice asked from the living room doorway. He walked a few steps over, and next to Tawney. Leaning over her shoulder, he looked at the pencil sketch of the massive centipede Grimm. He nodded and looked at Magnolia.

"This is yours, Magnolia? Not bad at all." he said. This was all the proof he needed. Magnolia smiled and thanked him.

Just then, the front door opened. Nickelas poked his head in.

"They're back." he said. "It looks like the buggy's fixed."

Albatross stood up, from his leaning position.

"Ah, I knew Alex could help you out. She really knows her way around power tools." Albatross proclaimed. He stood up, straightening his back, and approaching the door. He pulled it open all the way, and Nickelas nearly fell inwards onto the doormat.

Thyst and Stick came through the door shortly after Nickelas had caught himself and strolled forward like nothing had happened. Thyst removed his simple boots, and made straight for the couch, where he sat, to the right of Tawney. Thyst's simple boots of leather and rubber were a stark contrast to Stick's fancier boots. Behind the boots, Stick was crouched in front of the open closet. Thyst watched as he lifted the first aid kit, and walked down the hall towards the downstairs bathroom. Thyst turned to face forward and settled his back into the cushions of the couch.

Stick looked at himself in the mirror. It was a familiar face for someone he saw so little of. He looked down at his hands. They were a mess. Grease, smeared across his palms and forearms, mixed with sweat and dirt. The wrapped bandages on his left arm were frayed and stained with black. If hard work could be summed up in a picture, this is what Stick imagined it would look like.

Stick found the end of the bandages and began to undo them. The white fabric unravelled into a loose, airy mass, and he shook it off, and onto the edge of the sink. The skin that was previously covered was quickly turned pink as the blood vessels in his skin expanded, and flowed unhindered. He cocked his head at the arm. All the cuts from a week ago were still there, unhealed. But, surprisingly, without a single hint of blood. He shook his head. Grease had bled through, and left a few faint blotches, as well as two noticeably denser stains of black. One of these denser stains rested just above the joint of his wrist, and the other in a streak around the thicker upper half of his forearm. With a little soap and some running water, he began wiping away the viscous substance from his skin.

Thick, dirty water streamed from Stick's hands and into the white porcelain sink, flowing down the drain. It took a few minutes, but his arms felt much lighter without the caked on dirt and dust, trapped in a layer of opaque lubricant. He shut the faucet off and inspected his hands. They were clean and clear. His gaze slid up his arms. His right arm was clean, but those two stains were still on his stuck to his left arm. Stick twisted his lips and looked at the blotch above his wrist. He scratched at it with a fingernail. It didn't budge.

Stick licked his right thumb, then rubbed it together with his index finger on the same hand. He rubbed it against the stain. A moment passed and nothing happened.

Then a faint, glowing line appeared on the very edge of the stain. It began peeling and flaking off, floating into the air and disintegrating, and subliming into smoke in front of Stick, until the first mark was gone.

"Tough grease." he muttered.

Seeing the success of this one, Stick moved on to the long streak, further up his arm. It didn't last long, once it got the same treatment as the first. When it too was gone, Stick stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. Almost immediately, the edges of his vision darkened, and his head began to spin. Stick lost his balance and fell forward, but was able to catch himself on the sink. He leaned there, one arm on the rim of the sink, and the other holding his midsection.

* * *

Thyst stood on the back porch, in the light morning air. He flipped a small metal chip from finger to finger, watching the sunlight reflect every which way, as the trinket danced along his hand. The door opened to his right, and he turned his head to see who it was.

"Mr. Albatross." Thyst said, as the bearded man stepped onto the creaking wood of the raised porch.

"Thyst." Albatross acknowledged. He walked forward and leaned on the railing. A short walk to his left, the repainted Atlesian dropship rested on the snow-powdered grass. Stick rummaged through an open panel inside the aircraft, his arms disappearing into the metal. Behind him, Nickelas stood on a lowered ramp, waving his arms wildly above his head. Past them, by a few hundred feet, and at the very edge of Albatross's property, was a meager dock with a fishing boat moored beside it. Beyond that, the slightly disturbed waters of the bay waved good morning to the captain. The smell of the sea washed over him as he took in the crisp morning air, filling his lungs with the sky above, then letting it go, adding his own rapidly fading cloud to the blue expanse.

"Leaving so soon?" Albatross asked, sarcastically. He turned to Thyst, who looked back at him.

"Soon?" Thyst let out a short laugh. "I'm sure we've overstayed our welcome."

The retired officer leaned back on the wooden railing.

"Not in the slightest, Thyst, not in the slightest."

"All the same, sir." Thyst said. "There must be something we can do to repay the hospitality."

Albatross stood up. "Now that you mention it… Excuse me a moment." He said, and pushed his way back into the house. A few minutes passed before he emerged onto the porch again.

"I told Tawney that I will be out of the house for for a while." he said, and Thyst cocked his head questioningly. "Here. Come with me." the captain motioned, leading Thyst off the porch. They descended the stairs and walked around the support beams of the raised porch. Coming to the metal doors of the cellar, the captain unlocked the latches and swung open the angled doors.

"Now that you mention it, there is something I'd like you to do." he said, climbing into the dimly lit cement box. "Considering the fact that you intend to go back to Wedgewood…"

Thyst opened his mouth to speak, but Albatross cut him off before he could utter the even the first word.

"You didn't mention it, I know. But I know what it's like being young and brash. I would have done the same thing as you are now." Albatross stopped and stood in front of his workshop. It was little more than one corner of the cellar, with workbenches and tools he had purchased from Alexandra.

"Besides, Nickelas isn't the most subtle person I've met. Or quietest for that matter." Albatross explained. "But, back to the matter at hand."

Thyst watched silently as the man lifted a faded black box from a shelf on the wall.

"There is something I want, and it's on that island." Albatross undid the latches on the box. "But you know why it is that I can't go by myself."

Thyst knew why.

"Yeah, we'll help." Thyst said, with little hesitation. "What is it that you-"

"There you are." Stick's voice came from the open cellar door. Thyst turned to look at him. "Thyst, we're all set to go, I'm going to say bye to Captain- oh, he's here too. That makes this easier- oh, hey, nice rifle." Thyst spun back around and looked at the bearded man. In his arms, he held a weapon, a medium size rifle. There was nothing particularly special about the standard issue weapon, but something seemed very familiar about it.

"I'll tell you what I'm looking for once we get there, son." the captain said, placing a hand on Thyst's shoulder. "It'll be easier that way." Stick climbed down the carved cement of the stairs.

"You're… Did I hear that right?"

* * *

There was plenty of room for the captain aboard the sleek-painted dropship. A few decades of progress had not left the Atlesian military, or it's equipment, untouched. Sitting inside this modern vessel, Ferris Albatross felt like a relic from a forgotten and rusted past. Absorbed so deeply in his own mind, he failed to notice as the island came into view, and his attention shifted back into the present day, only once the aircraft had slowed noticeably. Dark wooded pine trees rose up from the horizon, and came into focus, heralding the arrival of Wedgewood Island, that damned forsaken island. The dropship soared over the long abandoned refueling station, making Ferris Keyes Albatross feel even older still.

"Albatross, sir. I mean, Mr. Albatross, I mean…" Beside him, Nickelas sighed. "What is it exactly, that you're looking for on this island? If you'd like I can start searching for it now."

"From up here?" The captain asked. Nickelas tapped the side of his head.

"I do have a Semblence, sir." Nickelas said. The captain nodded.

"Ah, yes… I forget the obvious." Albatross looked away from Nickelas, then after a moment, he turned back and shook his head. "Thank you, but not yet, son. You have a Grimm to deal with and I needn't distract you with finding something an old man lost years ago."

"Whatever you say, sir."

The dropship began a vertical descent into the scorched clearing of broken trees and twisted metal. Near the stern of the broken-in-half ship, the small, dark dropship scattered a cloud of powdered snow as it touched down. The rear ramp lowered and the dual wing mounted engines slowly whirred themselves into silence. Nickelas stepped off the ramp, Albatross followed him, gazing around at the two, massive, broken airships. Magnolia walked past him without a word and stood in close proximity to Nickelas. Thyst came off the ramp after her, then lastly emerged Stick, from the cockpit. Albatross watched as Thyst pulled Stick aside by the shoulder and they exchanged a few words, then Stick nodded. Stick filled in the rear of their formation. Thyst took point, and Team TSNM moved forward as a single unit, forming a protective circle around the captain.

From the side of this small circle, Nickelas cracked a smile and whispered to himself, but just loud enough for the others to hear him.

"Squad up..!"

Albatross remained relatively serious,while the younger people around him smiled, amused by their friend. He, himself, was not amused as easily, but he smiled briefly. As they approached the scrap heaped opening between the crashed ships, Thyst motioned with his hand to hand to halt. Everyone came to a silent stop. Without a word, with only hand gestures, Thyst motioned Nickelas and Magnolia forward. They moved in unison towards the breach, then swung to either side. Magnolia faced the still intact hull of the second ship. Nickelas faced the rusted metal of the towering wall, with the many hatches present on it, each one leading to a different section of the rear half of the bisected ship.

Nothing.

Thyst walked forward, standing between them. He looked around and after a moment, then he pointed Nickelas to the nearest hatch.

"Try the door." He said, pointing.

In controlled steps, Nickelas approached the hatch, and with a cautious hand, he reached for the door. He tried to push on it, and open it slowly, but it wouldn't budge. With increased effort, he shoved himself on the hatch, to no avail. He thought about the most likely problem he was having, and tried pulling on the door, instead, before finally giving up. Still no result. He looked back to Thyst, who motioned him to return. In a silent exchange, Nickelas switched places with Stick. Leaning Death Rattle against the wall and sweeping his scarf aside, and over his shoulder. After a few minutes, Stick had done away with the rust on the hinges and around the doorframe. He pulled his gasmask up and pulled out his newly acquired handgun. The remainder of team TSNM stacked up behind him, and stood ready for anything that might be on the other side. With a whine, the door inched open, but about a quarter of the way open, Stick met a physical resistance. He paused, then pulling back on the door, he pushed it open with as much force as he could. The thick metal door collided with whatever was pushing back against Stick, and flung wide open. In the moments it took the door to open, Stick realized two things. The first was that the room that this door opened to already had an entrance. It was a large hole blasted in the wall, which let in a decent amount of sunlight. The second thing he realized was that a large black shape rushed forward at him.

With surprising swiftness and unexpected strength, Cpt. Albatross hooked Stick with his arm and flung him out of the doorway, before turning and single handedly tackling all three of the other members of team TSNM. He yelled for them to cover their faces before burying his own in the snowy ground. A black haze washed over their prone bodies. Before dissipating upwards, into the air. As they rose to their feet, the captain spoke first.

"Sorry." He said, brushing off the front of his coat. "A force of habit. " Next, he brushed a bit of snow from the receiver of his rifle. Magnolia was already on her feet, and Albatross watched as Nickelas stood up, from where he had landed, next to Stick, who had raised to his haunches only a few moments before. Thyst came up behind the captain and shook his head, and the older man turned to face him.

"No," he said, "Thank you. That could have been Fenrir for all we know. You might as well have just saved our lives, sir." Albatross nodded and looked at the hazy hall beyond the doorway.

"I'd just rather avoid any of you breathing even a little of that poison in…" he muttered in a moment of contemplation. Thyst was about to ask what he meant by poison when just a stride away, Nickelas started talking.

"Did you just kill a Grimm with a damn DOOR?" Nickelas exclaimed, forgetting the atmosphere of stealth this self-assigned mission carried. Stick rose to his full height and placed his left hand on his hip, looking at the door.

"Maybe..?" Stick said, unsure, before turning to Thyst. "Move in?" he asked. Thyst was silent for a moment, he looked at the captain beside him, then back at Stick. He nodded. Stick and Nickelas gathered themselves and made for the doorway. Before they could pass through, Thyst grabbed Nickelas by the shoulder. Both Stick and Nickelas turned to look at their leader. Thyst looked at Stick, as he kept his hand on Nickelas.

"Just you." He said, looking at Stick. "I don't like the look of the air in there, and we can't risk sending more that one in, if Fenrir happens upon us out here." Nickelas took a step back from the door and Thyst let go of his shoulder. Thyst nodded to Stick, who went without a word into the doorway.

"Ten minutes, Stick." Thyst said in a commanding tone. "If you're not back by then, we might come for you, or we might just set the whole ship on fire." Stick's eyebrows raised.

"Funny." He said, slinging Death Rattle over his shoulder and moving into the ship's passageway with his handgun in his grip. Albatross stepped next to Thyst.

"Are you sure you want to send him alone into an unexplored wreck?" The captain asked. "Who knows what could be in there." Thyst nodded.

"Stick can handle himself, he has a knack for… surviving."

* * *

He bit down on the last dustling manspawn. They had what he needed. So he ate. The days had passed since he started this binge of consumption, in a haze, and he became more aware of the world around him. Now, looking back with a bit of hindsight, perhaps he had gone too far… as ignorant as he had been only a short time ago, he had been smart enough to not exhaust his food source, even if he didn't know why he did what he did. In the past week alone, he had eaten just as much as he had in all the time he had spent on this island, added together. Was he really any smarter now if he had so impulsively eaten through the remaining manspawn? Now he would have to leave this island, one way or another. His hunger would not be satiated if he stayed here. For the first time, he felt regret.

A scent caught his attention. No, four scents. Oh, in fact, a fifth scent had joined them this time. A rusty orange scent from his deep memory…

He settled down on two of his front legs. and with the other two, he pressed down on the warped body of what used to be a man. Every bite mark and chunk he tore from the body leaked a thick black cloud of spore-like particles. These particles didn't make it very far, floating for only a moment before being sucked into his bony-white maw. Let those pests come to him. They may have injured him the last time they had met, but it was their mistake for returning here. Killing them now would be less problem for him to deal with later.

* * *

The entire passageway was on a slant, due to the angle at which the ship had crashed, making the majority of the rooms Stick passed happen to be not only to his left, up also a little bit above him. Eventually, he came to a door at the end of the long passageway. He couldn't see through the solid metal doorway. That was Nickelas's job. He took a few calm breaths through the filters of his gas mask. A few seconds later, the door was open and Stick stepped into a large empty space. Empty, for the most part, other than a few scattered containers, and more noticeably, a large metal crate in the center. A crate that, Stick noticed a moment later, used to be both bolted and strapped to the floor. The metal on the side had a hole punched in it, the metal curving scanned the room for anything else, before his eyes fell on a particular hatch of interest. A small sign posted next to it bore the extremely faded, but still recognizable symbol the Atlesian military used to denote engines, doubled by the fact that below the symbol, the word "ENGINE" was both in bold and in all capital letters. Engines meant fuel… fuel meant… Stick smiled. He removed a cartridge from his belt, and a small dowel antenna from a pouch on the same belt. He flipped open the top corner of the cartridge and fit the dowel antenna into a slot built for it. Then he slid the cartridge back onto his belt.

Thyst's watch told him that eight and half minutes had passed when Stick returned, strolling out of the doorway.

"Anything?" Thyst asked. Stick pulled his gas mask down.

"The ship has some pretty nice I had some more time to take a look at them…" Stick said.

"Anything important?" Thyst reiterated.

"Well, I came back, so no, I didn't find Fenrir. But, I did find a big empty crate." Stick answered. Thyst leaned in.

"And…?"

"It looks like whatever was inside it, didn't want to stay inside of it, either during, or after the ship crashed." Stick continued.

"Fenrir?" Thyst asked.

"Probably." Stick agreed. He adjusted how Death Rattle hung on his shoulder, then clenched and unclenched his left hand a few times. The lower half of his arm tingled as if it had fallen asleep, under the bandages. Maybe he had tied them a little too tightly.

* * *

It just so happened that the hole in the bow of the other ship, the still-in-one-piece airship, was intentional. They were looking at a lowered landing ramp. The surrounding area was as silent as ever, while they stood before the opening. Thyst turned to Stick after a moment.

"I was expecting zombies." He stated. "Now I'm just disappointed."

Stick murmured something only Thyst could hear, and following that, team TSNM erupted into light-hearted argument and wisecracks, even Magnolia broke her usual professional silence, but her soft-spoken voice was unfortunately drowned out by the more prominent voices of Nickelas and Thyst.

The frosted pine needles of the dark barked trees were one half a beautiful sight, and one half a painful memory. While his younger allies squabbled amongst themselves over something the trivial matter of "how cliché zombies are", Ferris Albatross took his gaze away from the evergreens in the distance. Standing before this airship, he felt a sense of familiarity he hadn't in years. It was as if he was finally home. The welcoming sensation drew him forward, and inward. He broke off from the group, and took a few strides through the snow. His feet met the ramp, and he continued walking. There was very little natural light beyond the opening, considering the sun was set high in the sky behind the airship. Ferris Albatross held his rifle loosely, as he reached the top of the ramp. Some miracle had spared her from total destruction, but this was no way to treat a ship as beautiful as this. She deserved better. Behind him, Nickelas's voice went suddenly quiet, but the conversation went on otherwise.

Four red dots emerged from the darkness, glowing red at the core, and slowly fading into a deep orange at the edges. They rose out from the shadows and shone with pure malice.

"Oh," the captain said. "It's you." The orbs seemed to watch the captain for a brief moment. Then they were gone. Footsteps. The faint sound of rushing wind. Four trails of red painted the darkness, then a dark form erupted from the shade.

"Nice to see you too..." Albatross muttered, as the claws came down on him.

A deep blue light, a him, and a streak of silver. Argent absorbed the blow but not the strength behind it. Nickelas was flung to the side, where he collided with the metal bulkhead. His visor clattered to the floor in front of Albatross. The Grimm before Albatross rose to its full, impressive height. The ivory white of Fenrir's mask slowly split in half along it's length, as the Grimm rose its head in a howling roar. The loud and piercing sound echoed multiple times off the inside of the ship, becoming something more.

To his left, Magnolia sprinted around him, silent and low to the ground. Following here, on Albatross's right, was Stick, only a few steps behind her. Fenrir swung his deadly claws, but Magnolia leapt seamlessly over the attack. She spun gracefully through the air, and landed just as Stick came at Fenrir's other flank.

Sensing the Huntsman, Fenrir swung his whole body around, raising both his right arms. The Huntsman ran straight at Fenrir without caution. A mistake, the Grimm knew, there was no way Fenrir could miss, this close, at this angle. Then the claws missed.

Stick ducked with ease under the limp attack, Fenrir's arms flopping uselessly. Two very small blades were buried in the flesh of Fenrir's right arms, just below the shoulders. The hilts of the knives reflected what little light there was in the ship.

Death Rattle swung slightly on its sling as Stick moved, first tossing his handgun upwards, freeing both his hands. Swiftly, Stick crossed an X in claw marks along the Grimm's abdomen. A faint smoke began to seep from the wound, just as Stick caught the falling pistol behind him, then swung it forward, pressing the barrel of the gun into the Fenrir's chest, firing three rounds into the Grimm, before pulling back as the Grimm attacked with remaining, functional arms. The Huntsman and Huntress duo took systematic turns, exchanging blows with the Grimm, for the next few seconds. Fenrir's paralyzed arms began to twitch, and before long, they were moving as if the knives had never even pierced the Grimm's skin.

Albatross, watching this unfold, recovered his wits and looked to where Nickelas sat slumped against the wall. Bending down, Albatross scooped up the blue glass of the visor, surprisingly still in one piece. With it, he rushed over to Nickelas, who was already stirring. Albatross knelt next to the silver haired youth, extending a hand. Nickelas took the hand willingly and got to his feet.

"Glad to see you're alright." Nickelas said. Then he coughed twice, shallow and dry.

"I'm the one who should be saying that." Albatross said, offering Nickelas his visor back. Nickelas took it, then shook his head.

"Don't worry sir, I'm used to getting smacked around for other people…" he smiled, and tapped Argent, "Why I carry a shield."

Albatross didn't fully understand this kid, but respected his ability to keep smiling, at least. Nickelas fit the visor back on his face, and after nodding to the older man, joined the battle with Fenrir. He was joined a moment later by Thyst, who both figuratively, and literally, dropped in.

Albatross watched them hold their ground against Fenrir for a moment, before he opened his palm and look down at it's contents. In his calloused palm, only a small block of lightweight metal and plastic. Nickelas surely wouldn't miss this in the next few minutes. The retired captain ran straight for the metal staircase to his right, climbing to the walkway above.

Focused, and in the correct stance this time, Nickelas caught Fenrir's claws with Argent and deflected the attack, leaving Fenrir staggered, just long enough. Magnolia filled the gap Nickelas made when he stepped back, and to the side. She spun as if she were a dancer putting on a show. One, two, three, a trio of slashes marked the Grimm's body. One from Magnolia's tail left a gash in Fenrir's leg, the others, from her opened fans cut Fenrir's arm and chest, respectively. With only a slight bend of the knee, she sprang into the air, and vaulted over Fenrir. As she flipped through the air, she threw weapons around the Grimm, catching them once she had landed on the other side. With the Grimm chained up, she pulled, and forced Fenrir to lean backwards. With the Grimm exposed, Thyst and Stick emptied a single magazines each, in record time, until Fenrir pulled back on Magnolia, who knew to let go of the fans, rather than play tug of war. As the chains pulled the fans back into Magnolia's grip, the hooked edges of the fan dug through Fenrir's chest, not going without a fight of their own. Fenrir slammed all four of his front limbs down with a crash on the deck, and once more howled.

* * *

Albatross navigated the passageways without question, and pushed his way through a hatch, into the room he was after. The command deck sparse, and eerily quiet. What used to be a set of glass panel windows was now just a gap in the wall, the floor beneath it shining with a combination of snowfall and shattered glass. He slowed his pace to a walk, and came to stand before a raised section of the floor, complete with a dashboard of controls, similar to the other dashboards around the deck. He ran his fingers along the panels, picking up a film of dust as he did. His finger slid over a raised disc. He wiped of the circle and blew into the small port in the center. He blinked a few times as the dust got in his eyes. Albatross pulled the small thumbdrive out of his coat pocket. He matched the end of the thumb drive with the port. It wouldn't fit. Of course it wouldn't. Albatross rummaged through his pockets again. There it was, his trusty pocket knife. This thing had solved more than one of his problems.

With the blade, he found the screws holding a panel to the underside of the dashboard. He unscrewed them and the panel fell with a clatter to the deck. Wires were zip-tied in place, small black loops containing a rainbow chaos of signals. A small black box rested inside, right underneath the port on the dashboard. Wire ran into and out of it in every direction.

"There we are." The captain said, muttering through the screws between his teeth. Albatross made what he needed. Above him a display flickered to life. A moment later, the bridge's lights came on.

"Transference to Airship, Designation: LKE-15 complete." A monotone female voice recited, sputtering out the dashboard. "Welcome aboard, sir."

Captain Albatross rose to his feet. He spit out a screw from his teeth and adjusted the front of his coat. The monotone voice continued.  
"Caution, system-wide power critical. Reactors damaged. Projected potential: 11%." The voice explained. Albatross placed a hand on the dashboard.

"Re-route all power to engines, Oia." The captain commanded.

"Nonessential systems, sir?" She asked.

"All systems." The captain responded.

"Aye, sir."

The lights went out.

* * *

"Just a side note, but, has anyone seen the old man?" Thyst asked, yelling between his motions in dodging Fenrir's attacks. His breathing was heavier than before, but he wasn't anywhere near tired yet.

"Oh crap, not our only adult!" Nickelas yelled, with mock concern, holding Argent against a flurry of clawed slashes. Thyst turned, a look of dramatic disgust on his face, he placed a hand on his chest.

"Hey, I'm an adult!" He argued. Fenrir slashed, and Thyst ducked under the attack. He jumped over a second, lower attack. Nickelas chuckled.

"Yeah," he said, waving Argent, "Sure you are." Magnolia leapt over Nickelas, landing both feet on Fenrir's arm as it swung at Nickelas. She kicked off, knocking the attack off course and into the floor. As she bounced off the Grimm, she slashed with her tail and caught Fenrir's snout. She landed, and turned to her teammates. Her posture and the slight tilt of her head said enough before she even opened her mouth. She was about to speak, when suddenly, the light in the ceiling above them flickered. Distracted, and confused, they went quiet.

In the silence, Stick hurtled past the trio, and bounced off the wall behind them. Then the lights went out as quickly as they had come on. Turning their attention back to the Grimm, Thyst threw a chakram, then bolted forward, wreathed in electricity, before fully taking the form of lightning. He crashed into the Grimm, and the entire ship rumbled. Thyst rematerialized next to his team.

"Was that me..?" He asked.

* * *

"Engines, slow ahead." The captain commanded. He felt the ship's rumbling but no movement.

"Results ineffective." The OIA reported. The captain took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

"Any damages to the engines?" He asked.

"Engine Two: Damaged," there was a slight delay. "...functional."

"Just Engine two?" The captain asked.

"No other detectable damage." The OIA confirmed.

"Then put us at full ahead." the captain said.

"Caution sir, Reactor potential critical" a caution symbol flashed on screen, "and steadily decreasing. Full ahead is not advised." OIA explained.

"I gave you an order." The captain said. "Full ahead." The caution symbol was replaced by a faintly pulsating circle, on the display.

"Aye, sir." There was a loud humming below the captain. Then the airship shook, accompanied by a loud crunching noise. The ship suddenly lurched forward, and threw the captain into the dashboard.

"Fuck…" the captain muttered. "Engage the bow thrusters, Oia. Pull up."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

Stick watched as his scarf was torn to shreds by an attack that he had only narrowly avoided. He watched the tattered remains flutter past, and felt true disappointment. He clenched his fists and dipped under another attack. The tingling in Stick's left arm had never stopped. In fact, it'd gotten worse. If it weren't attached to his body, he would have sworn it was vibrating. He would have been concerned about his arm if he weren't currently grappling with a Grimm that was not only set on killing him, but was also nearly twice his size and had 50% more limbs than he did. His legs slid back and he tried desperately to keep Fenrir from mauling him to death. All he had to do was make an opening for us team, was it really that hard? Yes. It was that hard. A claw took him by surprise and sent him careening towards the end of the lowered ramp. Just as Stick regained his footing, he looked up to two further sets of oncoming claws. He leaned back to dodge them, just as the ship suddenly lurched forward. Fenrir's full weight fell forward and caught the already off-balance Stick on the way down. The two tumbled down the ramp, just as the front of the ship began to lift from the ground. Stick felt the ramp vanish from underneath him, then the sensation of falling. The fall was only a few yards, but it was enough to break away from the Grimm. Stick lay on his back in the snow, as the Grimm scrambled to its feet in a cloud of smoke and motion, not very far away.

A shadow passed between the sky and Stick. A very light shadow, a little too white to be a shadow, actually… Stick realized who it was, as Magnolia soared over him, she landed squarely on Fenrir's already injured snout, and balancing on the small surface, she drove a pair of small daggers into two of the dark beast's glowing eyes.

Nickelas was about to jump to the ground, following Magnolia when a hand took his shoulder and stopped him from jumping. It was Thyst. Nickelas turned to look at the leader of his team.

"I can't think of a better time." Thyst said. Nickelas narrowed his eyes a bit.

"What do you…" Nickelas started to ask, "oh…yeah." He remembered. He looked down at Thyst's right leg, where he wore a single metal kneepad. Nickelas started slowly nodding, but steadily got faster. He held up Argent."Ready when you are." he said, a grin spreading across his face.

Magnolia kicked off the Grimm, which began clawing at its own face. It howled, and began swinging wildly with its claws. An errant swipe caught Magnolia just a she landed, and knocked her aside.

Fenrir stalked forward towards the recovering Magnolia, and readied the attack that would end this pest. The blindfolded girl pushed herself up onto her arm, the Grimm looming over her. She wasn't getting up in time, she couldn't. A sharp pain took over her leg.

A short distance behind the Grimm, Stick pushed himself to his feet, he coughed, and a grey mist escaped his mouth, dissipating into the air. Something beyond himself urged him to stand, to move. He stared at Fenrir. Stick realized he was hungry. Very hungry. He watched the Grimm lift an arm, claws poised to attack, to attack… a desire urged him forward. He had to kill Fenrir. But he was just so hungry.

Magnolia's vision of Stick was out of focus. The normally bright turquoise of his Aura was dull, lacking its usual luster. More accurately, half of Stick lacked the usual luster. Perhaps that last attack had done more to Magnolia than just injure her leg. Her vision was screwing with her. But she didn't have time to worry about eyes, she had to-

A beam of light erupted from Fenrir's torso. The Grimm paused. Magnolia hadn't heard Death Rattle's unique hum, as it had been drowned out by the engines of the airship as it lifted off.

Thyst saw the beam leave Stick's rifle, and he started running. Nickelas was in his way, just like he wanted. Thyst jumped into the air, and came down on top of Nickelas, only, Nickelas caught Thyst in the center of Argent. Nickelas nodded and Thyst bent his knees. A pulse of blue, and the next thing Thyst felt was acceleration, as the air welcomed him. He slowed as he reached to top of his arc, and he took in the scenery. The deep blue of the ocean was quite stunning, contrasting against the white tipped pine trees of the island. Then Thyst felt gravity taking over. That was all the time he had, he supposed. He fell from the sky and locked his eyes on Fenrir. The Grimm was turning to face Stick. Perfect. Just the angle Thyst needed.

Fenrir looked down at glowing hole in his chest. Thick smoke immediately began to seal the wound. Fenrir turned his head. The Grimm was done with these distractions. He shifted his feet and turned around, the manspawn with the rifle was visible for a moment before a cloud of white smoke blocked the Grimm's view of the boy. Then a purple blur collided with Fenrir's snout with a sickening crunch.

Thyst watched Death Rattle's coolant cloud burst from the rifle, as he approached the ground, the smoke rose up to meet him. The last thing he saw was Stick drop the rifle. Then with a crackling, he vanished from sight. Thyst carried the energy from his fall, and as electricity, he shot across the ground in an instant. He appeared once more, crackling with energy mere inches from the Grimm, driving his knee into the red detailed ivory of its mask. The force drove Fenrir back, but Thyst far from slowing down, leaving both figures to hurtle across the ground, pressed against each other. As they began to slow Fenrir's entire body began to smoke.

"You don't think I'm letting you get away this time, do you?" Thyst asked the Grimm, not expecting an answer. With renewed vigor, his body electrified, and the smoke cloud Fenrir was cloaking himself in became electrified as well, and the Grimm howled out in response. The pair came to a grinding halt in the snow,alongside the side of the broken airship. The Grimm was motionless. For safety's sake, he shot off no less than eight bullets into the Grimm's skull, before walking away.

* * *

Thyst slipped his arms under Stick's shoulder and hoisted him up.

"You fit to fly?" Thyst asked. Stick nodded.

"Unless I'm dead." he replied, before coughing. Behind Thyst, Magnolia shook her head.

"Good. Because we need to catch up to that thing." Thyst pointed at the large airship above them. At the bow, standing on the ramp, a small Nickelas waved frantically. "I think he's getting worried."

Stick laughed. Something inside his head was screaming.

* * *

It was a perfect fit. Landing anything on a moving airship was a challenge all to itself, but Stick managed to fly the dropship right into the open bow of the airship anyway, without a hitch. After landing, the ramp seemingly closed by itself.

"Hey Thyst. I think I know where he went." was the first thing Nickelas said, when Thyst stepped out of the dropship. With unamused eyes, Thyst thanked him sarcastically, then limped away. He sat on the nearby staircase and removed the kneepad from his right leg. Rubbing his knee, he looked at Nickelas.

"Still hurts to do that…" he muttered, hand resting on his kneebone.

"Yeah, but it's pretty awesome." Nickelas said.

"Yeah... it is." Thyst agreed. Stick walked past the seated Huntsman, and ascended the stairs. Magnolia followed not far behind, with only a slight limp.

"Where are you two heading?" Thyst asked the passing pair.

"Answers." Stick answered plainly. Thyst pushed himself up and slung the knee pad over his shoulder. Nickelas sprinted up past Thyst. Thyst took a deep breath and followed Nickelas up the stairs.

"Now where's the bridge..?" Stick mused.

* * *

The metal hatchway to the command bridge flew open and Stick stepped in, followed by his teammates. Captain Albatross turned in the swiveling chair that was bolted to the raised platform at the center of the bridge.

"Ah, hello." He said, he patted the arm of the chair and gazed out the pane of shattered glass. "You like it? It could use some work, but..."

"With all due respect, sir, care to explain what's going on?" Stick asked.

The captain pulled a pipe from his coat. He filled it and lit it with a match, then after taking a long drag, he blew a ring of smoke, and smiled.

"I suppose you deserve some answers." He said, "You did help me find what I was looking for… Think you can wait for us to get home? There's a lot I need to say… I'll take your silence as an agreement."

* * *

Thyst stared down at the ground from the the airship's exposed upper deck. In the distance, he saw the remains of the broken ship they left abandoned. A black spot stained the snow. From it, rose a plume of thick smoke with the color of ink.

"Sure it's dead this time?" Nickelas's voice asked from beside Thyst. Thyst turned to Nickelas, then back to the speck in the distance.

"It hasn't moved in a while, I doubt it's going to." Thyst answered. They stared at the pillar of smoke for a while. Suddenly, Stick stepped up next to them and leaned over the guardrail. He turned back his head back and looked at them. He pointed at the smoke plume with his thumb.

"Wanna make sure?" He asked. Thyst and Nickelas stared at him for a few seconds. "Ah, I'll just do it." He answered for them, waving his hand. He reached onto his right forearm with his left hand. From the strap there, next to a pair of Death Rattle's cartridges, he pulled a small rectangular object off of a loop. He took it both hands, and extended a telescopic antenna. He held the object out over the edge and squeezed it. With his free hand he held up three fingers. He lowered them steadily, one after another. Three… two… one…

"Huh." Stick vocalized. He brought the handheld object closer and tapped it a few times.

"Weir-" he began, but suddenly got caught off guard. Stick jumped and went rigid as a fireball engulf the rear half of the crashed ship, and spread rapidly outwards, before the explosion shook the very air around them. Nickelas and Thyst snapped their eyes to Stick in unison.

He shook himself loose then looked back at them.

"Dead."

* * *

 **[Volume One, Conclude]**


	12. RETURN AND REBUILD (II:I)

**[II:I] Return and Rebuild**

It sounded like a choir in practice before the big show. Unfortunately, it also sounded like they had a long way to go before they were ready. Dissonant and out of tune, dozens of voices clashed, possibly even hundreds. It wasn't easy to identify any single voice within the cacophonous mess. Something about it though, was oddly comforting, similar to the idle chattering buzz of a city.

In the dull blur if sound, a single shriek echoed through the white noise. Then the busy-street buzzing returned. The background noise continued for some time, until one more, a second shriek pierced the white noise. Only this time, it didn't go away. A second voice added it's inhuman scream. Then another, and another, and more and more joined in, until the sound was deafening.

Everything went utterly silent, then came a faint whisper from behind.

* * *

Stick tensed up and jolted upwards, coughing himself awake. Beside him, the top shelf of the small, two shelf bookcase leaned forward and fell off the metal rack it rested on, spilling a multitude of hardcovers onto the carpeted floor, with a series of muffled thumps. Stick swept his fingers across the nightstand. His glasses, not what he wanted. He knocked the case for his contact lenses right off the nightstand and onto the floor. Still, not what he wanted. He felt the strap and the metal he was looking for, clasping his hand around his watch. With a free hand, he rubbed his eyes and dangled the watch face in front of his own. It read just a few seconds after 4:13. In the morning.

Stick sighed and fell backward into bed. He figured there was no use trying to get back to sleep now. He yawned and rolled out of bed. Stick knelt on the ground, and patted tentatively along the floor underneath the bed. Once he had found the contact lense case, he straightened out his back and rose to his full height. He replaced the small plastic case onto the nightstand, taking his glasses in return. He slid them over his ears and looked at the pile of books on the carpet.

Stick made short work of refitting the shelf and replacing the hardcover texts to their original places. Following which, he exited into the hallway, and rounded the short corner into the bathroom. He closed the door and flicked on the lights, and he blinked a few times in response to the sudden brightness, before his eyes adjusted, and he found himself staring directly into his own eyes in the mirror, a deep brown color.

In the mirror, he watched as his unbandaged hand ran through the thick white hair atop his head. It hung lazily down to his chin, covering his left ear entirely, and partially obstructing his vision on that side. He tried to blow it out of his face, but it stubbornly flopped back into place, worse than before. Within a few seconds, Stick had produced a hair-tie and tamed raging bedhead. His reflection inspected the short ponytail, in contrast with the sides of his head, which remained close-shaven.

Stick checked his arm - it had taken longer than usual, but it was finally healed, he supposed that made sense for burns - then flicked off the lights and left the bathroom. In the hall, Stick tilted his head and look towards end of the hall, which lead into the living room. Unless he was mistaken, he could've sworn the kitchen lights were on.

A few soft lights rested on their lowest setting, and in the half-light of the kitchen, Stick wandered into the presence of the the two current women in the house. Of course, to be truthful to their ages, they were young woman, still easily considered as girls.

Tawney turned from the kitchen counter with two undecorated white mugs, and paused when she saw Stick standing quietly in the empty opening to the hallway. She smiled.

"G'morning to you too, then." Tawney said, in a quieter variety of her usual forceful way. She handed one of the mugs to Magnolia, who accepted it with a near-silent 'thank you'. Stick took a chair from the dining room table and lifted the woven wicker seat on wooden legs it into the kitchen. He took a seat, and sighed as he leaned back.

"Yeah, I had some trouble staying asleep tonight." Stick admitted. The long, tan colored, concave ears atop Tawney's head twitched in her dusty blonde hair. She pulled out the stool next to Magnolia, sat down, and took a sip from her own mug, before leaning an elbow on the countertop and resting her chin in her palm.

"I know the feeling, dude." She said, taking another sip. "Love the hair, by the way. You look good in white, and the ponytail's..." She stared at Sticks head a moment, looking for a word. Then the change in her face told Stick she had found it. "... it's quaint." she finally said, "In a good way." She added after a few moments to assure Stick that it was a compliment.

"Thanks, I guess..? You've seen it before, you know this happens every winter. Only, my body's just now finally realizing it's cold out." Stick said. There was a moment of total silence, between the trio, and even the outside world, all except for the barely-audible sip of Magnolia lips on the edge of the mug. At the present moment she was what could be considered as far more humble - that was one word for it- clothing. When she was wearing pajamas was one of the few times anyone would have the rare chance of seeing Magnolia in pants.

"Wait, hold on…" Tawney said, breaking the silence. She looked at Magnolia, who looked up, and back at Tawney. Then Tawney flicked her head back to guy in the room. She did this a few times, then exclaimed.

"Holy crap! You two match. That's fucking adorable, I love it!" Her hands were in fists and shook excitedly. If she hadn't put her mug down before this revelation she would likely have spilled the liquid inside all over the floor. Both Stick and Magnolia reached up to feel their respective white-haired ponytails. Then she stopped suddenly.

"Oh, damn, wait. I didn't even ask, you want some?" She asked Stick, pointing to her mug with her thumb. "It's tea." Tawney informed Stick, before he asked. "Not the fancy stuff from Mistral" She added, turning to Magnolia, "Sorry about that, this stuff from Atlas is probably pretty bland, huh?" Magnolia shook her head.

"I don't mind." she said, taking another sip. Tawney turned back to Stick who shook his head as well.

"No thank you, I'm fine." He said. Tawney shrugged, and took a carefree swig from the mug. Then she coughed and stuck her tongue out.

"Agh, hot…" she muttered. Magnolia laughed quietly behind her, as Tawney sat with her tongue out, in a vain attempt to fan away the pain with her hand. Eventually the room settled down into a peaceful stillness, only the occasional sound of a light sip filling the hush. Tawney rose from the stool, bringing her unfinished drink with her in one hand, while with the other she absentmindedly rubbed one of her cheekbones as she walked. Coming to a stop in front of the kitchen sink, she leaned forward and stared out the window and into the starry night sky. Her eyes wandered around the dots of light above, then slowly made their way downward, where her attention fell upon the harbor, where the shadow of the airship's hull dominated the water. The vessel sat on the water's edge, a patch of darkness within which the starlight's reflection was unseen in the lightly rippling waves of the harbor.

"I still can't believe it." Tawney stated plainly.

"What, the ship?" Stick asked. "It's old, and the design a bit, different than normal, I'll agree, but-"

"No…" Tawney responded. "It's Albatross that I can't believe." she paused and turned to face her white haired companions. "Dude, the old man's like, spec-ops."

Stick nodded silently. He closed his eyes for a moment.

* * *

The airship's bow thrusters disturbed the waters of the harbor below. Albatross's dingy of a fishing boat rocked over the waves, bumping into, and bouncing away from the dock beside it, but always coming back, the thickly woven lines tied too firmly to the metal cleats of the dock to let the boat go free. Across the harbor, a number of other boats held firm to the shore. As it was, the unknown military vessel quickly laid claim to a significant portion of the water along the northernmost shore of Drydock's natural harbor.

It had been a process moving the dropship through the hangers on board the airship, but it wasn't impossible. With purposeful certainty, Stick directed the airship forward. In front of him, the starboard hatch to the hanger, a massive gate of metal, opened slowly to the outside. Even from within the cockpit of the dropship, Stick could practically feel the wind as it rushed past him.

Thyst watched the Atlesian dropship rise vertically, clearing the top deck. He turned to Albatross with a nod, and the captain issued the command to seal the hanger. The dropship, a mere toy in comparison to the scale of the airship it was hovering about on, made few small adjustments, before setting down a short walking distance from the superstructure at the rear of the reclaimed airship.

"Hold down the fort Oia, I'm going ashore." Albatross requested of the glowing artificial intelligence.

"There are no military installations in our immediate location, captain. I am unable to fulfill this order." the blurry-edged ball of light responded, pulsating with each syllable. The captain sighed, then smiled.

"Oia, keep the ship safe." he said, rewording his request.

"Aye, Captain. Security systems online." the female monotone responded. The captain stood from his seat and stretched his back.

"Oia, keep the systems on low power, I don't suspect any threats here, it's friendly territory. We'll be back soon enough." Albatross assured the AI.

"I await your safe return, captain."

"Thank you, Oia."

Tawney stood on the raised porch, wrapped in a quilt, as the familiar dropship landed in her backyard. She gripped the quilt tighter against the rush of air the dropship generated as it lowered itself into the yard, the thought of losing her thick improvised cloak being too terrible to allow.

As Albatross climbed the steps to the back porch, Tawney pointed from under the heavy quilt, but was unable to vocalize anything other than a prolonged "uh…"

"Yes, Tawney. The large ship behind me, I am aware." Albatross answered the unasked question. "Now get inside, you don't have any shoes on. It's too cold for that."

Tawney paused and looked down at her bare feet.

"Hey wait!" she cried out, "Magnolia is barefoot…"

"And Magnolia isn't my daughter, now get inside." the captain repeated.

Team TSNM, along with Tawney, now changed out of the clothes she had slept in, stood silently around the countertop between the kitchen and the dining room. There was no discussion, but plenty of questions hung in the air around their heads.

A familiar creaking of wood. The door to the cellar opened, and the bearded captain entered the kitchen. When he said he was going to give them answers, Team TSNM had assumed he'd come back up with his arms laden with files, but to their surprise, his hands were almost entirely empty, except for a copy of the current novel he was reading. He placed the book on the counter and looked at the youth gathered around him.

"Magnolia, if I may, can I use your sketchbook for a moment?" he asked. Magnolia nodded and left the room for a moment, returning shortly, and handed the compendium of her drawings to the captain, hiding her reluctance to do so. He placed it gently on the counter.

"Thank you." he said, as he opened the front cover and flipped through the pages of sketches, scanning for one in particular. He arrived at it and placed a sturdy looking finger next to the Grimm recorded on the page. His calloused fingertip rested beside the head of a certain massive centipede.

"You encountered this?" he asked the team. Thyst nodded, nervously flipping the small metal chip he carried between his fingers. Albatross nodded to himself in return. "Hourglass." he stated. "That's where it was." Thyst looked to Nickelas, who looked back nervously. Albatross reached over to the novel, opened it, and removed the bookmark with pinched fingers. He tossed the square bookmark onto Magnolia's sketch. "Look familiar? He asked.

The bookmark wasn't just a page-holder, Thyst noticed. This was a photo. And there it was, the exact same Grimm he had fought back at those sandy ruins. The image was branded with TRACKER-84.

"You killed it." Albatross stated, sliding the photo back towards himself and spinning it so it was oriented correctly for his viewing.

"We did." Thyst answered, before he realized it wasn't a question. The nervous chip flipping stopped.

"More like, you did." Stick suggested.

"You crashed a Bullhead into the thing's face, Stick." Thyst retorted, pointing the metal at Stick. Stick didn't argue it. Albatross reached up and grabbed the metal chip from Thyst.

"This right here is why we call them Trackers." the captain explained. Stick looked up at the captain's face.

"We?" Stick asked. The old captain smiled.

"Operation Lullaby." He said, crossing his arms and standing as tall as he could. "See kids, this is part of our the history your academies don't like to teach."

* * *

"Stick, hey, hey Stick. You fall asleep?" Tawney asked. He came back to the present.

"Sorry, no, wait, sorry, no. I'm not." Stick muttered. "Just lost in thought." Tawney tilted her head and pursed her lips.

"Well, as I was trying to ask, how are the repairs coming?"

Stick put his hands on his knees and leaned forward in his chair.

"Ms. Rite is making this a lot easier than it would be if it we're just Nick and I swinging powertools around" he answered. "The hull's patched up completely, no leaks, which was the our top priority." He counted on his fingers. "The reactor's good, honestly that thing might be more powerful the some of the modern designs, but it's missing a few crucial pieces, so it's not operational at full efficiency… the one of the rear engines is shot, it flies, but if we get the reactor up and running at full power, before we fix the engines, I bet the damn thing would just explode from the power surge." He looked up at the ceiling and looked at a list of goals only he could see, "Not to mention, we haven't even tested the weapons systems…"

* * *

The Mistral underworld was a breeding pit for crime, and in certain parts of the kingdom, the vice was almost pungent in the air. If one went even deeper, it was an almost palpable fog in the alleyways. To the common person, it was almost undetectable, but to the trained eye, certain buildings seemed to give off a menacing Aura of their own.

A man with a squared-away hair, and a noticeable scar on the left side of his jaw sat with two other men at a four seat table in one such building. One of the two men sat with his chair tipped, and his legs reclined over the open chair. The establishment was poorly lit, filled with smoke, and smelled of men who had long since come to the conclusion that personal hygiene was for stuck-up prissy types. The man slammed his glass down as he delivered the punchline to a less-than-respectful joke about a pair of faunas on a boat. He laughed with drunken aggressiveness, drowning out the combined laughter of his two drinking companions. The trio's laughter died off, and gave way to the bar's meaningless chatter. The man with the scarred jaw leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"I would'a sweared the Boss'd kill me the moment I walked back in his door without even a fistfulla Dust to give'im." he said, letting the chair tip forward again. The man with his legs across the empty chair chuckled.

"Would've been for the better if he did." He quipped.

"'Ey, now that's not very nice." the scarred man responded. The third man at the table shook his head.

"Nah, Slate. I agree with'im, if you die, then I get your position."

"Oi, well fuck you, too." Slate retorted, pointing at him with a finger extended from the hand clenching his drink. "Glad to know that's how you feel about m-" he stopped mid sentence. As he stared on with annoyed disbelief, a figure came up to the table, wearing sunglasses, and without a word, lifted the one man's legs off the chair, with considerable verbal protest. "Hey kid!" Slate barked, "The hell you think you're doing to my buddy?" The figure, who couldn't have been a legal adult for more than half a decade pulled the chair out and took a seat.

"This ain't ya table kid, you trying to make a scene?" the man whose legs had been moved asked. The new arrival ignored him.

"Slate." He said. His voice was eerily calm. If Slate wasn't already three hard drinks in on his day drinking, he might have found it oddly soothing. "Listen kid, I don't know how you know my name…" He muttered, as the newly seated person adjusted the deep colored trench coat he wore. It was the kind of color that if he were to spill red wine on it, then one would barely be able to tell there was a stain. In the wearer's case, it wasn't red wine, however, that taught him this. He cut Slate off.

"Word on the street, Slate, says you decided it would be a good idea to steal Brinewater property." As he spoke, a silver chain dislodged from the folds between his shirt, and coat. It slipped out, and revealed an intricate silver cross, which dangled loosely, and on a few centimeters from the tabletop. Slate recognized that cross. "And I had thought that you at least, weren't that ignorant." the one with the cross said. "You know Brinewater is off-limits." Slate looked up just as the figure across from him took off his sunglasses with a gloved hand, revealing the deep red, emotionless eyes behind the lenses.

"Hol'up hol'up hol'up hol'up. Didn't realize it was you, man." Slate stammered, his two companions looked at him, and he nodded as nonchalantly as possibly. The two men seated on either side of the table reached for their weapons, slowly. "That wasn't my call, ya'know, I just do what the boss says. You wanna talk, bring it up with 'im." Slate said, shrugging.

"I already did, came right here when I was done." the red-eyed figure responded. "I'm just tying up loose ends." He leaned forward slightly in his chair. "On an unrelated note, you may want to start working on your résumé."

Slate pushed up abruptly from the table, with surprising dexterity for a man who had been in a dive bar for the past couple hours. He reached for the pistol on his thigh, the two men with him at the table standing moments after he did, reaching for their weapons.

The younger, red-eyed figure leaned forward slowly, and pushed back from the table in his chair, the wooden legs skidding along the floor, as he ducked under a baton swing from the man to his right. Rising swiftly, with a single fluid motion, he kicked backward and hooked the left side of his chair, with his heel. The seat tilted slightly to the right, and a gloved right hand took hold of the backrest. He twisted his upper body and swung the chair into the baton wielding attacker. The chair splintered on impact and he dropped the wooden scraps. The chair-struck man fell limp and dropped onto the table, causing it to tip over, spilling the remaining drinks across the floor and himself, as a result.

The red-eyed figure sidestepped as Slate fired indiscriminately, his aim distorted by alcohol. Slate watched as the person he was trying to kill kicked the fallen table across the floor, and at remaining companion. The table collided with the man's legs as he fumbled for his switch-bladed knife. The wood connected with a crack, and swept his legs out from under him, causing him to fall forward. The figure in the red coat grabbed the man's arm as he fell and swung him, lifting over the shoulder and then down onto the floor next to the unconscious man soaked with the foam of foul-smelling drinks. The man's body came down hard onto the fallen glass mugs, which shattered and crunched under his weight. He cried out in agony as the now blurry red shape moved over him toward Slate.

Slate fired a second bullet at the threat, missing by mere inches, but the figure didn't so much as flinch. With a series of movements Slate was unable to follow, the gun was wrenched from his grasp and before he could react, the gun's barrel was turned on him.

Slate raised both his open hands into the air, any and all confidence he once had gone from his spirit. He laughed nervously.

"What's the big deal? You stopped us didn't you? Sent your… You know…" he gulped, "Your little chauffeur, didn't you? He and his pals… they returned the trucks, right? No harm no foul." Sweat beaded on Slate's forehead. "Maybe you and me can just talk thi-"

A sharp pain unfolded just above Slate's waist. He looked down at the source of the pain and found two bullet holes, almost overlapping, in his shirt. Blood was already starting to soak into his shirt. He looked at the gun in his opponent's hand. The barrel was smoking lightly. Slate fell backwards onto the cold wooden floor.

The figure nonchalantly tossed the pistol onto Slate's chest and walked away. The bar would be utterly silent and motionless around him, were it not for the light swishing of his red trench coat as he passed through the door, and exited the building.

"My driver?" He repeated to himself, musing the question, as he removed the sunglasses from his coat, unfolded them, and slid the tinted lenses back over his eyes. He pulled a matchbook from another pocket within his coat, and removed a single tightly wrapped, and extraordinarily clean white cigarette from another. He pulled a match from the book, and struck it on the back of the folded matchbook, and the red tip burst alight. Lifting the flame to his lips, where the small white object rested he transferred the fiery glow onto the cigarette, in a cupped hand. He then promptly shook the match out, extinguishing the flame, and tossed it aside into the street. Maybe it was about time that they got caught up.

* * *

When most people thought of the western fringes of Solitas, they usually thought of drained and empty dust mines, and the surrounding scrapyards, slowly rusting away into the folds of time. And they wouldn't be wrong to think such things. The Dust deposits on this part of the continent were not nearly as plentiful and abundant as further inland. For years, nearly a decade and a half, no one had used these facilities for a single thing. And so, miles of perfectly viable scrap metal sat unclaimed. More importantly one might note, plenty of useful machinery.

To say these locations were devoid of life would be a lie. While no plants grew in this near-frozen industrial wasteland, and very few animals could settle comfortably in these surroundings, a certain type of creature found this location to be just right for some unperceivable reason.

A lone Boarbatusk dug into the hard, frost filled dirt with its large win tusks. One tusk was cracked, and just as it reached the apex of its spiral, it stopped. The other tusk spun in a neat spiral curling back so far as to leave the sharpened tip of the tusk pointing downward at the ground. Red markings dotted the Grimm's tusks and head, both of which were a bone-like material of pale white, even more so than the freshly fallen virgin snow on the ground surrounding the Grimm. It grunted audibly and beat at the ground. Then it stopped suddenly and went still. The Grimm looked up and stopped moving.

A disc of metal, or more accurately, a hexagonal ring, curved through the air, spinning rapidly, and dug itself into the Grimm's side. The Boarbatusk squealed out in pain. A figure, a deep and purple against the blue-grey sky, stood high above the Grimm, atop a scrap heap, whose summit was made of the rusted bodies of cars. Even as the Grimm searched frantically for its attacker, the figure extended a second arm, a long, double-ended blade collapsing down into a second ring of sharpened metal, which he threw with devastating power, energy crackling from his fingertips as it left his grip. Like a frisbee throw, the circular blade tilted in the air, coming down hard, and vertically on the oversized hog.

The figure bent down like a sprinter on the block, and was motionless for a moment. As he watched the second blade soar through the air, he tensed his entire body. Electricity crackled from his back, enveloping him like a cloak. In an instant he had vanished from sight with a loud crack.

Suspended in the air above the Grimm, Thyst reappeared. He grabbed his chakram in his left hand and it unfolded in his grip. He spun and buried half of the extended blade into the back of the Grimm's neck. As he kicked off the black mass of the Boarbatusk's body, he snatched his second weapon and sent the Grimm's body hurtling into a pile of rusted metal. The black mass began the process of sublimation almost immediately. Thyst stood over the vanishing corpse, and pulled a bolt into the small crossbow on his right forearm. There was a thumping in the ground.

Seemingly drawn by the noise of conflict, a surge of black, white and red rushed suddenly became known around him, but Thyst stood still where he was. More Boarbatusk emerged, their squat sturdy forms taking over the the spaces between scrap heaps. On the tall piles of metal, Beowolves clambered to the peak of the artificial hills, and a horde of Creeps filled the spaces in between. The setting was eerily still.

Then a single Beowolf made its move. the Grimm dashed down it's pile of scrap, running on all fours. As it reached the base of the pile, it compressed its body and sprung forward with violent intent. Thyst was still, failing to even acknowledge the Grimm.

A bright beam tore through the Grimm's torso, and it split down the middle. The remains of the Beowolf's body landed with a two distinct thumps on either side of Thyst. Behind him, Death Rattle hissed as it cooled off. Thyst raised his hand into the air next to his head, and flicked his wrist forward.

The scrapyard erupted. The Grimm came in waves, the first of which was comprised almost entirely of the bipedal and fodder-like Creeps. The awkward anatomy of the monsters stood little chance against the trained Huntsmen. Bulky legs that served as the Grimm's only limbs were cleaved cleanly from their respective bodies under the precisely delivered slashes of the glowing edges of Nickelas's blades. Stepping from one Creep to the next, he dispatched each with a little less effort than the last, finding a simple rhythm to follow.

Beside him, Magnolia prioritized her targets, as gained ground on the oncoming Grimm, she threw both hooked knives from her grasp, adjusting their flight, then pulling tightly back on the chains, until she felt resistance. She lept into the air, and landed squarely on the face of a Creep, using the Grimm as a springboard. Soaring into the air, she flipped her entire body, and with it, the body of the Creep spun with her, like a large flail through the air, hooks of metal stuck in the Grimm's back. The Creep came down hard on a Beowolf, slamming both Grimm into the ground with a violent crunching. A cloud of dirt and powdery snow erupted from the impact and knocked the surrounding Creeps bouncing away from Magnolia as she landed. Without turning, Magnolia pulled her arms back and freed the hooks from the Creep. The loose knives swung in a wide arc around her, and while her arms stopped, the chains continued through the air, until they collided with something solid. The waist of a Beowolf in fact. The thin metal links wrapped twice around the Grimm, knocking it off balance. The two stood like this for a moment, the Grimm bent back slightly, Magnolia leaning forward, looking in the opposite direction. A small, faintly purple object collided with the Grimm, followed by the entire body of Thyst. In an instant, the upper half of the was torn from the Beowolf, leaving only a pair of hind legs and a chain wrapped waist. The torso of the Beowolf slammed into a scrap heap, then from an unseen force, promptly imploded, pulling the rusted pile down on it. After a moment of stillness, the scrap was blasted in every direction, the massive chunks of shrapnel cutting through surrounding Creeps. Magnolia recalled her weapons to her grasp, and slashed to the side, striking down a miraculously surviving Creep. Thyst stood up straight, and loaded a second purple tipped bolt onto his wrist. He scanned the battle, just in time to watch Nickelas dodge-roll away from a spinning Boarbatusk, allowing it to hurtle past him. The tusked Grimm spun on a sharp angle and came once more hurtling towards Nickelas. This time, he took a low, wide stance and with Argent's shield configuration producing a small concentrated wall of light, he caught the Grimm head on. His feet dug into the ground, and he slid back a few steps. Then with a purposeful shift in his footing, he angled his shield and Thyst watched as Argent split down the middle, and Nickelas took hold of the paired swords. With a flash of calculated movement, Nickelas swing downward and caught the Boarbatusk before it could react, following the initial strike with the second half of Argent. The Boarbatusk let out an anguished cry, and came to a stunned halt.

Where the Grimm's tusks once were, only sizzling stumps remained, Nickelas stepped forward, kicked the Grimm in the snout, and flipped his grip on the two halves of Argent so he held the sword back-handed. Nickelas drove both blades downward and through the top of the Grimm's head.

Behind Nickelas, atop a pile of scrap, Stick was on the defensive, fending off encroaching Creeps with the handgun he chose to keep for just this reason. Bodies piled up, and black smoke filled the air around him, mingling with the sound of gunshots, as Stick rapidly changed targets and reloaded fresh magazines with drilled, rigid efficiency. As he did, the shape of a Beowolf crept up behind him, silently, and prepared to strike. Without so much as looking, Stick took the pistol in his left hand, and dipped his right shoulder, letting Death Rattle fall into his hand. He corrected his grip on the weapon, then swung it over his left shoulder, thrusting the barrel of the gun into the underside of the Beowolf's jaw. He pulled the trigger and a bright beam of energy shot through the Grimm's head and into the sky. As the Beowolf fell, Stick swept Death Rattle in a large arc, pulling the weapon's second trigger as he did. A dense white cloud enveloped the remaining Creeps in it's heated embrace, and by the time it had cleared, every Grimm before him lay dead. Stick reslung Death Rattle and knelt down, before leaping off of the pile, a turquoise spark flashing beneath his foot as he pushed off the otherwise loose footing.

Magnolia finished off a Boarbatusk with her tail, then threw a small knife at a second as it spun past her. The Boarbatusk stopped mid spin, it's body locking up, just long enough for Nickelas to catch it with his shield and fling the Grimm's dead weight to the side, where it was impaled on a protruding spike of metal. It squealed a moment before going silent and limp.

* * *

"So what exactly am I carrying at right now?" Thyst asked, as he cradled a metal cylinder towards the rear of the buggy.

"That," Nickelas answered, from within the vehicle, where he was securing it with a series of straps. "is a battery. A very large battery." It'll hold any run-off energy from the ship's reactor, and store it for later, in the design of the system, these are used to lower energy waste as well as keep the system running efficiently." Thyst nodded slowly.

"I just wanted to know what they were, but thanks anyway." He said. Nickelas shrugged. There was a solid metal-on metal thud next to them. Thyst and Nickelas turned to the sound, just in time to see Stick hoist another solid metal object over his shoulder and into both arms.

"Take this for me, will ya?" He asked. Nickelas shimmied over and extended his arms to take the object. Stick released it into his grip and Nickelas nearly fell forward, out of the buggy.

"A little… warning next time..?" Nickelas groaned.

"Careful, it's heavy." Stick said.

"Thanks." Nickelas replied.

"And that," Stick said, turning to Thyst, "are the only two replacement control rods I could find for the reactor." He stretched his back and sighed. Though, I suppose I should be happy I found any at all." Thyst nodded and looked to the horizon.

"If that's everything we needed, then let's get a move on back to Drydock. I'd hate to keep Albatross waiting, he seemed rather excited." Thyst said, as he swung himself into the buggy. Stick smiled.

"That, and more." he said, strolling to the driver's side of the buggy.

* * *

A rusted pile shook itself loose and tumbled outward into the surrounding area. In the distance an engine could be heard, faintly drifting further away every second. Two sets of sharpened white tusks pushed through the scrap and into the clearing. It's front legs weren't hooves like it's rear two, but rather tightly muscled claws. Spikes, like thorns, lined the four tusks that reached forward from the creature's ivory-masked face. It lowered its snout the to ground and took a whiff of four distinct Auras. The soft fleshed didn't come normally come out this far, there was nothing for them here. So why today? With two clawed forelegs and two hooves of its rear legs, the Grimm sauntered through the scrapyard. The soft fleshed little ones were going away from their hive in the east… Bored, and curious, he followed the trail.


	13. GOOD THINGS DON'T END (II:II)

**[II:II] No Rest**

Nickelas stood crouched next to a large metal pylon. He tightened the last metal fastener inside an open panel, slipped the wrench through his belt, refit the panel and pulled his hood tighter over his head. He rubbed his hands together and let out a long, heavy, and visibly white misty breath, as Stick rounded the short tower of semi-cylindrical metal carrying a mess of tangled wires in his arms.

"Housekeeping." He called out when he came up on Nickelas, who didn't turn to face him. "What's with the hood? We're inside." Nickelas took a deep breath in and rubbed just above his left eyebrow.

"Well, you know, I was sitting here thinking about how the circuits of this ship are locked away and reflect the human biology, our nerves trapped in utter darkness yet perceiving a world of both beauty and horror when the weight of my existence began to constrict me and I pulled up my hood to hide from the sins crawling up my spine and-" Nickelas stopped and turned to look Stick in the eyes. Nickelas's face reflected just how unamused he was. He placed his hands on either side of his temple and stood up. "It's really fucking cold in here, Stick."

Stick paused for a moment and reflected on the temperature of the reactor room.  
"I suppose." He admitted. He paused and looked around the small pipe and panel filled room, offering just enough room for him to stand, crouched in. "Are we all set here?" Nickelas nodded and made his way for the door, squeezing past Stick.

"You set the rods, I wired the batteries, and made a few calibrations. So yeah, we're done as far as I'm aware. You want to get Thyst down here to test the batteries?" Stick smiled, but shook his head. Nickelas pushed open the door and stepped into the metal passageway on the other side. "Good." he said. "I need to go warm up."

Stick nodded, "You do that, I'll make sure we didn't leave anything behind." he said, as he watched Nickelas stride off down the hall, a thumbs-up hoisted above his head. Stick knew they hadn't forgotten anything, so he took the time to stand still and listen closely to the silence.

Ferris Albatross sat at a small, round table in the front room of the Rite Choice Mechanic storefront. The name might have implied competition, but in truth, Drydock only had her for a local mechanic. Across from him, the owner and primary worker, Alexandra, a considerably younger woman than he, handed him an off-white mug which emanated warmth and the smell of coffee. In the incandescent light of the shop, her hair shone a reddish brown, and her eyes were a soft hazel color.

"So," she inquired, "What brings you here? You finally find yourself a sturdy woman to help raise you, and that daughter of yours?" She laughed at Albatross's resulting scowl, waving her hand in his general direction and taking a long sip from her mug. Albatross placed his mug down on the dirtied glass table top, and composed himself.

"No." Albatross stated bluntly. "Alex, I wanted to thank you for your help on the airship." the captain said, motioning out the window. Even from here, in the center of the town, the top of the airship's outline could be traced along the horizon above the rooftops. "We can't exactly repair a two decade old military grade vessel with a screwdriver and a For Dummy's guide."

"With enough ingenuity and maybe some duct tape I bet you could." Alex joked, twirling her finger through the steam rising rising from her drink. "Besides, it's pretty fun working with those boys, if they weren't Huntsman, I'd love to snatch one of 'em to work for me… Magnolia too, though, I haven't done much with her per se, I know how to use a drill to make something, not a paintbrush." She turned her head and looked at the captain. "Listen, I know you're not here to just thank me, so… what's broken this time?"

"You know me too well, Alex." the captain admitted. "I'm a bit embarrassed to say we figured out how to make the reactor on board work just fine, but none of us can get the hydraulics on the bow ramp to stop squealing something awful."

Ms. Rite rested her head on the back of her left hand and pursed her lips. "Sounds like you're just missing the correct tools. If you'll help me carry them, I'll be glad to help." She sipped her dark almost-black coffee. "Once I finish this, of course."

* * *

The nose of the airship was split in two down the middle, like a set of double doors, only instead of swinging open, the two halves had pushed forward before sliding outwards to the sides. In the space between, a long metal ramp had unfolded, the second half of the ramp flipping upwards, and locking firmly in place before lowering into an obtuse angle on the shore, with a pair of thick hydraulic cylinders. As Albatross climbed the ramp, Nickelas stood at the top and was about to welcome the captain back when he was interrupted by the exact man he was going to welcome.

"Spare the greetings, son, show Ms. Rite the issue with the hydraulics, will you?" Albatross requested. The woman behind him, her hair a green-tinted shade of greyish brown, with deep cocoa eyes, nodded.

"I doubt it can be that bad." Ms. Rite said, as she reached the relatively small flooding chamber between the ramp and the hanger. Nickelas walked off towards the control panel attached to the thick bolt-covered metal of the wall, and turned to face the adult mechanic.

"I think you'll reconsider that statement, shortly…" he said, flipping a switch and pressing a button beneath it.

The last thing Ms. Rite could register was Magnolia, seated on a crate next to the cockpit of a black Atlesian dropship with a blue-tipped paintbrush in her hand. Then Ms. Rite's eyes narrowed and her mouth curled into a frown, as her face warped into an image of pure disgust. Ferris wasn't lying when he said it squealed something awful.

* * *

The metal ramp unfolded with a practiced mechanical rhythm, making far less noise than it had just half an hour ago. At the top, when it had finally unfolded stood Alexandra Rite, wiping her hands off in an old rag she kept tucked into the back of her pants.

"Well that sounds a lot nicer, now doesn't it?" she asked no one in particular. To the relief of everyone gathered, that being Nickelas, Magnolia, Stick, Tawney, and Captain Albatross, she was right. Albatross thanked her, to which she explained it was no problem at all, and would be willing to help with anything else they needed. After a moment, she added "if you'll consider paying me" then laughed, indicating it was a joke. "Though… If I may, if I'm going to keep helping you on this big girl, then I at least want to know what a retired Navy man and four Huntsmen intend to do with it." The gathered stood in silence for a moment, unsure of who should answer. Unease hung in the air. Nickelas's Scroll buzzing in his pocket was the only thing that broke the silence. "Hey, speaking of which, where's your fourth guy?" Nickelas breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Thyst?" Nickelas asked in return, reaching to retrieve his Scroll from his jacket. "He got antsy and went for a walk around the town. This is probably him." He said, pointing at his scroll, as he pressed the green button on the translucent screen and held the device up to his ear.

"Y'ello." he answered. "Coming back, Thyst, why'd you call?" Nickelas's visage became very serious. "Yeah…" he said, nodding, "Got it." He hung up and slid the Scroll back into his jacket. Those around him stared on in anticipation. "Grab your gear." he said, answered their unspoken question. Further reinforcing their suspicions, a number of gunshots echoed in the distance.

* * *

The elegant silver cross draped around his neck dangled freely off the side of the boat. Much to his father's chagrin, for the son of someone who had amassed such wealth and power, he still prefered to suffer the common man's life, which in this simple case, meant public transportation. His line of work benefited from intimidation, and all the intimidation he needed came from nowhere but his own presence.

There was very little happening in the middle of the ocean, and very few on the small vessel he found himself on. He took one last breath of the salty air, before pushed himself off the railing, and once standing at almost-full height, were it not for his slouch, he adjusted his professionally unkempt hair.

He made his way below deck and headed for the room he was assigned to sleep was unbelievably boring this entire trip. Was it really too much to ask to be attacked by an aquatic Grimm, perhaps? He would endure it, however, this ship was only going to Vale after all, not Atlas. With the increased security, this ship wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the coast anyway, so however his targets had made it to Solitas, they'd done it alone, which meant they had needed a small, low profile airship, most likely. He pushed open his door, the hinges on the wood groaning. Closing the door behind him, he reached into an inner coat pocket and pulled out a small circular object, colored with alternating stripes of green and black. Knowing who he was hunting down, there was only one oily charlatan of a man who would have supplied that to them, and he just happened to be located in the city of Vale. He sat down on the bed, and rested his feet on a matte black case that was longer than he was tall.

* * *

Thyst crackled with electricity, as he snapped into reality, and slid to a halt on the cobblestones of the street. He had been able to avoid being attacked long enough to make the call to Nickelas, but he really hoped they arrived in soon. The Creeps, he could deal with. The Boarbatusk the size of a moving truck, but a moving truck with serrated tusks? Not quite as easy. The small town was alive with commotion, as people ran as fast and far as they could. Drydock didn't have a wall, like other settlements, for a number of reasons Thyst didn't fully know. But in return, it seemed every household had at least one kind of firearm somewhere inside.

He sidestepped a Creep as it flung its body at him, and with an uppercut, dug Indra deep into its abdomen. He tore the weapon out, and with his other arm, and a downward hammerstrike, he drove the tip of his Garuda into the nape of the Grimm's neck. Upon removing the blade, the creature fell limp and began to dissipate rapidly. To either side of him, men and women determined to defend their homes stood in a loose phalanx, firing down on the lesser Grimm. It was at this point that Thyst heard the grunt of the oversized Boarbatusk as it clawed at the ground, then let loose a menacing roar, which seemed to inspire the gathered Grimm to charge as one. The first line of Creeps fell easily, but the Beowolves that followed them proved more of a challenge for the dozen of brave townspeople. Two, maybe three fell before they made it to the phalanx. Thyst heard a cry, and whipped his head to the side, only to watch as a man was knocked off his feet, and the creature of darkness loomed over him with murderous intent. Two cracks from Geruda made short work of the Grimm, and the man shoved its body off his own with considerable strength, before brushing himself off and getting back to his feet.

"Look out!" the man yelled, pointing behind Thyst, and reaching for his rifle. Thyst turned and readied his body to blink somewhere else, as electricity began to run up his legs. It was a smart choice that he decided to move, as just a few paces from him now, the main attraction, the four tusked truck of a Grimm was charging at him, its heavy breathing both loud and steamy in the cold air.

Three small knives flew past Thyst, barely missing his head. All three found themselves a solid place to land, each stabbing into the chest, right shoulder, and inner elbow joint on the same side of the Grimm, respectively. In a moment, the Grimm's gait was interrupted, and it tumbled to the ground, crushing a Beowolf which yelped and then fell silent, before its momentum hurtled it into a nearby house, cracking the wooden facade and shattering one of windows. It shook its head and got up on shaky legs. Then, to Thyst's surprise, the Grimm rose even further, standing on it's hind legs, so as to make it bipedal. It's eyes flashed with hatred as it looked down at the small Huntsman.

Thyst felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Magnolia's quiet hissing lisp behind him.

"Get the civilians out of here and somewhere safe, we'll handle this until you get back." she said. Thyst nodded and and was gone in a flash of light.

Looking up at the hulking Grimm, Magnolia unfolded her fans and took a defensive stance. Behind her, Stick ushered as many people as he could down the street, yelling that they had to move, while Nickelas stood with his shield fully extended in front of the commotion. Thyst assured those who were too stubborn to leave that it was in everyone's best interest that they did go somewhere safer.

The bipedal Boarbatusk was slow, and Magnolia took advantage of that. She collapsed one fan and threw it, the thin chain trailing behind it. The hook on the side of the knife latched onto the Grimm's shoulder, and with a short jump and a faint mechanical whir, Magnolia swung towards the Grimm. In a blur of rapid movements, Magnolia passed by the walking tank in midair and landed behind it.

By the time she landed, two knives were sticking out from the Grimm's chest and a red array of slashes marked its back. She did this again, turning the Grimm into more of a torn up pincushion than it was before, and landing in front of it, where she waved at it, almost mockingly. Enraged, the Grimm swung down with it's tree trunk of a left arm, missing Magnolia by a few inches, and sending up a cloud of dust. Magnolia threw a knife once more, and once more it latched onto the flesh of the monstrosity before her, firmly planted in its right shoulder. She bent her legs and jumped into the air, the tiny winch attached to her harness under her kimono pulling her towards the beast.

Then she felt herself going too fast. In the dust cloud, the Grimm had shifted its hand and by swinging upwards, grabbed hold of the chain attached to Magnolia. Like a toy, it swung her around once before slamming her into the ground, her faint pink Aura shimmering as she collided with the ground. The Grimm readied its right arm for a heavy downward attack, and Magnolia, slightly stunned but still aware, reached desperately for her blindfold.

Before she could, the attack came down, and it came down hard. Nickelas felt it in his legs. Above Magnolia, Nickelas had caught the clawed fist of Grimm on Argent, and braced himself. The shield absorbed most of the force, but not all of it. The Grimm withdrew its fist and pounded repeatedly on Argent, trying to break through. Nickelas grunted and held fast.

Then a beam of light cut cleanly through the Grimm's arm, causing it to stumble backward for a moment. Nickelas turned to watched as Stick emptied the white smoke from Death Rattle and began the process if reloading. The Grimm shifted its focus, and after letting out another roar, dashed off at Stick, its rear hooves thudding against the stones of the street.

Stick reloaded hastily, but wasn't quite fast enough, and the Grimm swatted him. He dropped the cartridge he was attempting to load, and was sent soaring down the street, before bouncing and rolling to a stop in the middle of the road. Nickelas stood up to give chase, but stopped. He sensed something moving behind him. He turned to look, but saw nothing. There wasn't time to worry about that he assired himself. He had to help Stick.

Grimm flooded the small town of Drydock. The roars of Grimm, the screams of people and the sound of gunfire could be heard all around as Thyst systematically evacuated the town. He encountered Tawney around the center of town, who reported that she had been directing people towards the airship, the safest place she could think of.

"Did you get the rest of town to go?" Thyst asked.

"Already got the northern part and the eastern part, the western half is still unevacuated." Tawney answered.

"I'll get that, if you keep directing people the right way." Thyst said.

Tawney nodded and Thyst ran off towards the shoreline. The Grimm were approaching from the southeast, so there was plenty of time to get everyone out, if they hadn't left already, but that didn't mean he could waste time. There was still a Grimm that needed to die.

The battle was a mobile one, and against their best efforts, they were dragging the Grimm into the center of town. Somewhere along the line, a Grimm, or a stray bullet aimed at one had hit some kind of fuel tank, and now a number of houses were engulfed in a slow crawling fire. Smoke filled the streets and the three members of Team TSNM fought desperately, jumping in and out, dodging away from attacks before reciprocating with their own.

Albatross placed a hand on Tawney's shoulder. She jumped at the sudden contact from behind."

"Tawney, I need you to get to safety too, I can't stand to lose you." he said. She opened her mouth to protest.

"But Thyst-!" she started. The captain stopped her.

"Is a trained Huntsman like the others, they'll be fine." He said. "You, however, need to run. I'll be right behind you." Tawney looked at the rifle in his hand. Then back at his face.

"Yeah," she muttered, "sure you will…" before she ran off. She knew he was lying but she also knew she had to do what he said. After seeing the Grimm they were up against, she knew there was nothings be could do to help.

Shifting his focus, Albatross looked up at the hulking monster approaching the town square, and the three young Huntsman fighting valiantly against it in the smoke.

"I never expected you would come this far west, Babirusa…" Albatross muttered, pulling the charging handle on his rifle, aimed it at the Grimm, and fired a short controlled burst.

"Didn't we tell everyone to get out of here?" Nickelas asked, without turning, too busy blocking a number of brutal swings. Stick turned to yell, but stopped. He turned back to Nickelas.

"It's the captain!" he called out. Nickelas slipped out from under the last attack, letting Babirusa slam its first into the ground, leaving a considerable crater, and turned to the Albatross.

"Sir, what are you-" Nickelas started to ask, then sense motion behind him and rolled out of the way, just as the Grimm rolled up and rocketed past, in signature Boarbatusk fasion.

"Pay attention, boy! You're fighting for your life!" Albatross retorted, aiming and firing another burst of bullets "And Babirusa here doesn't know mercy!" The captain yelled. Babirusa spun on a dime and came rocketing towards the group, just as Stick turned.

"And what island was this one trapped on?" Stick asked, sarcastically, before diving out of the way.

"Deeper mainland actually. Now focus. I'm here because I'm not going to sit by while my town is burned and my neighbors are slaughtered, I'm not adept at fighting than you might think, son. Now hear me, Babirusa has one weak spot though his thick hide, and it's a bit counter-intuitive!" Albatross explained. "The back of the neck, when Babirusa stands up, the solid armor on his back shifts and a space between his head and back reveals a soft patch of hide, one of you need to get something sharp in there as soon as you can."

"So jump on it's back and stab it in the neck…" Stick mused. "Sounds like a Magnolia job. Magnolia, you get that?" Magnolia nodded, Stick nodded in return. "Of course you got that, alright. It's that or we wait for Thyst. Nickelas, keep me covered." Stick said, as he ran toward the Grimm. Babirusa was on all fours, and clawing at the ground, seemingly ready to attack again. Still sprinting, Stick fired Death Rattle, and the beam went wide, barely grazing the Grimm's shoulder. Babirusa stood to its full height as Stick approached, and readied to swing its full weight down onto the charging Huntsman. As it did so, Stick released a cloud of thick white smoke. As he did, both Nickelas and Magnolia dashed after him. The smoke hit babirusa directly in the face, and it reeled in pain from the heat, and in a fit of rage, swung down wildly. It's claw ripped through the smoke and came down with a crack. Footsteps echoed behind the Grimm as the smoke cleared.

"That must be Thyst!" Stick called to his teammates.

Nickelas pushed back against the attack and the smoke rose to surround the Grimm's back as he did. Stick knelt to the side of him, having switched places behind the smokescreen.

"Thyst if that's you, aim for neck! The neck! Magnolia, n-" Nickelas called out but was cut short by the sound of a loud thump. Nickelas could feel extra weight resting on Argent, and then he watched as a long blade burst from neck of Babirusa in front of him. The Grimm let out one last gurgling roar, before falling forward. Nickelas pulled Argent out from under the Grimm and dove to the side, letting it fall, then scrambled across the ground to where Stick, Magnolia and Albatross stood, a few paces away.

"Back up, back up!" Albatross called out, as he backpedaled to a safe distance. Thyst! Get away from that corpse, you do not want to breathe in that smoke!" There was a crack and Thyst was standing next to the rest of his team and the captain.

"What smoke? The burning building? Trust me sir, I know about fire safety." Thyst said.

"Very funny, son, very funny." Albatross said, pointing in front of him. "No, the Grimm. That smoke from these mutated ones has bad effects on your body." He paused. "Now I will say, good job on the kill, I would have thought it would take more than one blow to the weak spot to kill Babirusa." Thyst looked at the dissipating corpse, then back at the captain.

"Yeah, sounds fun. I'm disappointed I didn't get to help." The captain and the rest of his team looked at him in silence. Nickelas turned to face the smoke.

"Then who's… that..?" He asked.

The smoke from Death Rattle began to clear, and made way fully for the Grimm's black death-smoke. The question answered itself as the smoke began to vanish, as if pulled into a vacuum. Albatross's expression became one of fear.

"No… No…" He shook his head and began to back up. The smoke cleared, and curiosity kept Team TSNM rooted in place.

Atop the corpse of Babirusa stood what looked to be a man. Only his flesh was pitch black and that was only the flesh that could be seen, as the majority of his body was covered in what appeared to be a full set of plate armor constructed entirely of bone. Only his joints were exposed, and that was barely so. In the place of a face, was an empty black void, where the last remnants of Babirusa's death-smoke vanished into. When the smoke was gone, what appeared to be a liquid version of bone wrapped around the face, and formed a solid white mask, that came to a point like a wedge, and completely lacked eyeholes. It the place of a right arm, was a blade that extended up past where the figure's elbow should have been, and down to it's ankle. With a ferocious thrust, drove the blade through Babirusa's back armor. In a matter of seconds the remains of Babirusa's corpse twisted and were seemingly sucked into the very being of the mysterious figure, wrapping tightly around the blade, then vanishing into its torso. The figure let out a unholy scream that echoed in on multiple times, before finally falling silent, all remains of Babirusa gone from sight.

"Run! Now!" Albatross yelled. The armored Grimm-like figure charged at the group, and with startling speed, swung in a wide sweep. Nickelas acted just in time to block the attack, and dug his feet into the ground.

"Go!" he yelled, "You heard the captain!" As he finished that, he felt a sudden surge in his attacker's body, and he was suddenly launched to the side and into the front of a nearby house.

Thyst blinked over to help Nickelas up, and together with Stick and Magnolia, they heeded what and Captain Albatross said, and ran.

An Ursa stood in their path, but whether driven by determination or fear, Captain Albatross sprinted past it without a second thought. Team TSNM kept pace behind him, dodging the Ursa some way or another. As they ran, weaving their way through Grimm filled streets, Thyst turned back just in time to see the new arrival split the Uras down the middle with a single attack. After seeing that, he ran a little bit faster. Loading a dart of Ice Dust into his crossbow, fired it as a hail mary at the figure. Be it a miracle or luck, the dart hit the foot of the being and rapidly spread out across its leg. For a moment it stopped, then without much effort, it tore its leg from the ice, shattering the trap. The airship was within sight now, they were going to make it away from… whatever this was. Thyst watched as Nickelas and Stick sprinted forward to the head of the group and took a sharp turn into a side alley. Without questioning it, the rest of the group followed them. When Thyst rounded the corner he saw Nickelas pointing spaces out and Stick running his hand across them, leaving a quickly fading turquoise glow on the surface, before the duo continued to run, exiting the alley way, where they turned and waited for the rest of the group. As they passed Nickelas, he opened his Argent to it's fullest, energy projection form. A moment later, the figure rounded the corner, low to the ground, and came down the alley. Nickelas nodded, and Stick lobbed a cartridge of Dust into the alley. It landed at the feet of the figure and exploded. In a cloud of Dust and dust, the figure disappeared as both buildings collapsed inwards and on top of the figure. Stick and Nickelas ran, and caught up with the rest of their group, just in time to make it to the airship. Just as Nickelas placed his foot on the ramp, there was a crack, and a boom, and he looked, to see the figure flying through the air after them. "Ferris!" Ms. Rite yelled. "What in Remnant is that!?"

"That's death, Alex! Someone close the ramp!" Albatross yelled.

Thyst pulled Nickelas up the ramp, as Stick slammed flipped the switch and slammed his fist against the control panel for the ramp.

In a matter of seconds, the figure landed a few feet away from them and stood deathly still as the ramp closed fully. Team TSNM gave out a collective sigh of relief as the bow clicked into place, sealing the flooding chamber.

In the bridge, Albatross was preparing all systems for flight. Nickelas ran up behind him and began speaking in a frantic voice.

"Sir, the engines aren't ready for the stress of the reactor, this is a big risk you're taking. If this ship goes down, we could kill or injure everyone inside."

"Do you have a better option, Nickelas? Staying down there with that Grimm is not something I am willing to do to these people."

"...no. But, sir, those are their homes, we're taking them away from their lives."

"Look down there, son, what the fire hasn't taken, the Grimm will. There's nothing left to go back to. We're escaping with our lives."

In the light of the fire below, Drydock was crumbling. Off the coast, Nickelas could see a few boats running through the water.

"I suppose…"

"No, son, I know I'm right. If you look at the people we saved, this is a town of old men and their wives, no one comes to Drydock anymore, even if it vanishes off the map, no one'll notice. Our best bet is to-" There was a thump. Nickelas looked out the repaired windows of the bridge. He paused and muttered something under his breath.

On the top deck of the airship, stood the figure. Albatross shook his head. OIA, reroute remaining power to weapons, lower bow cannons thirty degrees, rotate 350 degrees. On command the guns spun faster than Nickelas had ever seen a mounted weapon turn, and one of the three barrels caught the figure, and swatted it off the ship like a baseball.

"Full power to engines, Oia."

"Aye, sir."


	14. THEY END BADLY (II:III)

[III] They End Badly

"Vacuo?" Tawney asked, her inflection shifting upwards, indicating her excitement. She shifted her bomber jacket - which she had taken personal liberty to modifying - on her shoulders. The collar bore a worn and time-flattened faux-fur, and the sleeves finally fit her after all these years. Contrastly, the torso had been cut off to just below her rib cage, imitating long sleeved crop-top over a simple and off-white tee shirt. The captain, the old man of Atlas she'd known for years, nodded. Around him stood three of the four members of TSNM. Magnolia to the captain's left, Nickelas, his right, and Thyst stood a pace to the left of Tawney, in front of him. Stick, in contrast, stood some distance from them, past the control panel but still within earshot, leaning his weight on the wall. He stared out the recently repaired window with empty eyes.

"If you don't mind me saying, sir, that's pretty far from here. Why Vacuo?" Nickelas inquired. "It's not exactly right around the corner, Vale is a lot closer."

"You tell me, Nickelas. What happened last time Atlesian naval vessels flew in the skies above Vale?" Albatross asked in return. Nickelas opened his mouth to respond, then stopped himself, subconsciously bit his lip, and nodded silently.

"And Vacuo is a lot more welcoming to the refugee and the wanderer, which, considering my house is on fire down there, we are both." the captain elaborated. Thyst stepped forward into the conversation.

"Not to mention, Vacuo has a black market comparable to the one in Mistral, not quite the same scale, but arguably more diverse, if you're looking for something less common-"

"And you would know all about the black market…" Nickelas interrupted jokingly. Thyst flicked his single earring.

"I'm a Salamander, aren't I?" he said with a grin.

"I accounted for that as well." Captain Albatross stated, attempting to wrangle the conversation back on topic. Thyst's face reverted to his more serious expression.

"...and since we're looking for a new set of engines for this ship-" Thyst paused, "Call her the Coleridge, right, captain?" he asked, before continuing, but didn't wait for a response, "we might as well start looking as soon as possible. These old ones should get us to Vacuo at least before they combust, right, Stick?" There was no response.

Thyst looked over the captain's shoulder to where Stick had been standing but saw only empty air in his place. Then the slamming of the first heavy, metal hatch to the airlock.

"Did he just go outside?" Thyst asked. Magnolia and Nickelas nodded in unison. Thyst took a deep breath. "Should I go check on him?" Thyst asked. Magnolia and Nickelas nodded again.

The blast of chilled air was refreshing against Stick's face as he stepped out onto the starboard side of the airship. The cold eased his nerves just a little, and gave him a moment's rest from the splitting headache he had endured since the moment his eyes had fallen on the tall, dark figure with the mask and the sword for an arm. The sun was high in the sky, and clouds were almost nowhere to be found. A wave of sickness washed over Stick and he stumbled, catching his hand firmly on the railing, to stop himself from tumbling over the edge. His knuckles turned white with how tightly he gripped the metal. A strong, hollow force pulled him towards the side of the deck, and now here he was.

What remained of Drydock smoldered in the distance, from here it looked like little more than a backyard fire pit. Stick shook his head and a few white hairs came loose, falling over his eyes. With his free hand, he pushed them back into place and leaned over the top bar of the railing, calming himself down as he tried to fight the urge to vomit. He nearly flung himself over the edge when a hand touched his shoulder.

"You alright there, Stick?" Thyst's familiar voice asked from behind him. Stick turned his head to look at Thyst. "Ooch, you sure don't look it." Thyst muttered. "Oh, sorry, that probably doesn't help." he smiled. Stick's face didn't change much as he nodded weakly.

"Yeah… I'm fine… don't worry about it." Stick answered, turning back to gaze over the railing. Thyst stood silently for a moment, then leaned himself over the railing as well, not needing to slouch quite as much as Stick did.

"We both know that's a lie, Stick." Thyst said. "You're even more dark and brooding than usual." he chuckled. Stick didn't respond. Thyst gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "C'mon man, that's the part where you're supposed to grin and tell me to shut up." Stick stared silently at the orange glow in the distance. He mumbled something. Thyst leaned in. "What was that?" he asked. Stick turned his head to look at Thyst again.

"I can't keep a home, Thyst." Stick said. "Nothing ever goes the way it should." He paused and lowered his forehead onto the railing. "The way I want it to…"

There was silence between them for a long time. Stick could hear Thyst's footsteps a he walked away, then he heard the clunk of the hatch as it opened, but Stick didn't even try to move.

"Come inside, Stick. You are home, aren't you? You have been, this whole time. You're here with us. We care about you. Why do you think I came out here?" Thyst asked. Stick didn't give a response, or lift his head for that matter. "Alright, take your time, but know that that if you take too long, I'll start thinking you just don't like me. " Thyst said with a smile. From where he stood, Thyst could see Stick's chest shake just a little in the pale light. Stick rose to his full height and turned around, putting his back to the railing. A small smile had breached the tired features of his face. Behind Thyst, Stick could see Magnolia and Nickelas peeking out from the opening. He wiped his eyes to get a clearer look. From the doorway Thyst could see the weak smile grow larger on Stick's face. He could also see the shadow that rose up behind Stick, seemingly out of thin air, a sharp contrast to the bright sky in the background. Thyst wanted to move, but something intangible rooted him firmly in place.

Time slowed, a sensation Thyst was accustomed to, yet, for once in a long time, he was not in control. In an instant that felt far longer, Thyst watched as a familiar black figure rose to its full imposing height behind Stick. Then, choking on his words, he watched as Stick's smile warped and twisted into a grimace of pain, his mouth opening into a cry of pain. Or at least, Thyst assumed it was. He heard nothing at all, watching in horror as Stick's body flashed a faded turquoise, and a slender, and blood tainted ivory blade slipped through the flesh of his abdomen, and a clawed hand wrapped around his head. The blade retreated from Stick's chest rapidly, tearing across his body, opening the wound further. The Grimm cast him aside like a limp doll.

Stick's body tumbled along the metal deck, coming to a rest a couple dozen yards towards the bow of the airship, where it lay motionless.

Suddenly the world came back into stark reality. Thyst felt the wind as it rushed past, and something warm on the front of his shirt. Behind him, Magnolia cried out Stick's name, only once and to no response. Thyst's legs sparked, then his hands, then in a wordless scream, his body came alive with lightning the color of orchids. Faster than he had ever gone before, Thyst blinked out of and back into a physical form, and before the Grimm could react, drove a bare fist into the left side of its thick, white, featureless mask. The Grimm's head snapped to the side for a moment, before an electric surge filled its body, and the white and black mass exploded to the right, towards the stern of the ship, where it bounced and rolled, before rapidly regaining its footing. As the bipedal Grimm rose to its feet, the cracks on its mask let out a thin vapor. The mask split down the middle, and the featureless black shape of a face beneath it unleashed an unholy screech, which Thyst met with equal ferocity as he charged the Grimm in a blinded rage. Meeting in the middle, the Grimm swung its bladed arm at the oncoming Huntsman, who dodged the horizontal swipe easily, cracking out of, and back into sight. Adjusting its attack, the slender blade came down fast diagonally, but Thyst sidestepped the bloodstained blade for a second time before using a roundhouse kick to catch the Grimm's legs and make it lose its footing. As it fell, Thyst slammed his fist down towards its head once more. Rolling out of the way, the Grimm spun across the ground and tripped Thyst with a clawed hand. Thyst fell forward and the deck rushed to meet him, only for it to be interrupted by a flash of light, and Thyst landed clear of the Grimm, on both feet. Then moving far faster than he had expected, the Grimm dashed forward and grabbed him by the throat, slamming him into the side of the superstructure that held the bridge. He struggled for a second as the Grimm pulled the red-tinted blade back to pierce Thyst's skull. Thyst didn't let that happen, kicking both of his feet into the Grimm's chest, knocking it backwards and freeing him from its grasp. The dark figure stumbled back, and hit the railing. Both combatants stood up and stared at eachother, no more than six feet from one another.

Blood pooled around Stick's still body, as Magnolia knelt beside it, and Nickelas stood not far off, watching the fight between his team leader and the humanoid Grimm. He watched as the Grimm tripped Thyst and how, in a vain attempt to escape, Thyst was grabbed, and pinned to the wall. He looked to Magnolia and Stick's body, then back to the Grimm and Thyst. "You're not leaving alive…" Nickelas growled, sprinting to where the Grimm stood, staring down Thyst.

One of Argent's blades came down fast, just narrowly scraping the armored back of the Grimm, as it dodged his attack, right into Thyst, who swung an electrified fist, which the Grimm ducked under. It swung the slender blade that made up more than half of its left arm, and forced Thyst to jump back. Nickelas swung during the Grimm's follow through and caught it in the shoulder, Argent's blade hissing as it buried itself deeper. With the second half of Argent, Nickelas swung horizontally for the neck. The Grimm ducked, but just as it did, Thyst's knee collided with it's head. It stumbled back, and regaining its footing, let out another screech. Then, gathering its strength, it vaulted over not only the two Huntsman in front of it, but clear over Magnolia and Stick's body as well. In the wide open deck that stretched on towards the bow, the Grimm stood and awaited its foes. Thyst reached into the small of his back and fit Garuda and Indra over his forearms. The weapons clicked into place, and tightened around his arms, just as he liked them. He pulled a light blue dart from its container and loaded it into the crossbow on his right arm. Nickelas watched this all, and not once had Thyst looked away from the Grimm during the entire process. Without a word, Thyst vanished in a crack of lighting and Nickelas saw him reappear a few steps from the Grimm. Wasting no time, Nickelas sprinted to rejoin the battle, dashing past where Magnolia still knelt. From the corner of his eye, Nickelas could see the blood on the deck darkening as it collected. He shuddered, then steeled his will. This Grimm needed to die, for Stick. He repeated this in his mind as he gained speed, running towards where Thyst and the Grimm battled.

Thyst spun and ducked, avoiding a slash from the Grimm's bladed arm, still crouched, he lifted his right arm slightly and loosed the bolt at the Grimm, point blank. The bolt collided with the Grimm's foot, where it stuck in place, seemingly to no great pain to the Grimm, who continued to attack, with a follow up from its claws. Thyst blocked the attack with one of his bladed gauntlets, just in time to watch the Grimm's left foot flash freeze to the deck. He dashed to the side, and when the Grimm tried to follow, its foot got stuck, making it lose it's balance for a moment. In that exact moment, Nickelas fell upon the Grimm, with both of Argent's blades. One dug deeply into the left bladed arm of the Grimm, and the other buried itself in the flank of the Grimm's chest. Nickelas yanked the blade from the Grimm's arm as it began to turn, but struggled to dislodge the second one, which be realized now, had lodged itself the thick armor that covered the majority of the Grimm's body. The Grimm countered with a swift backhanded swung from the right, its elbow connecting with Nickelas's head, knocking him back a few feet. He shook his head and tried to get his vision back into focus. When it finally did, he watched as the Grimm, in one swift strike, struck the ice around its foot, shattering the ice, and freeing itself. With full control of its body again, it turned to Thyst and swung at him. An attack that Thyst easily avoided. Nickelas watched Thyst dance around the Grimm, able to put only glancing blows on the foe, while his own ears rung from the blow to his head. He reached his right hand out to find his other sword, but couldn't find it on the deck, until he remembered it was still sticking from the Grimm's chest. Pushing himself to his feet, Nickelas took a deep breath and yelled

"Thyst! Use Argent!" he yelled, over the winds and sound of blades colliding. At first, Thyst didn't seem to react, continuing his assault with his own weapons. Nickelas however, didn't yell again. Even from here, he could see the shine in Thyst's eyes that usually accompanied a daring, sometimes stupid plan. Standing stock still, Thyst waited. The Grimm swung with its left arm, the blade narrowly missed Thyst as he stepped to the right, directly into the claws of the other arm. With trained grace, Thyst threw himself into the oncoming attack, purposefully falling and sliding across the deck on the patch of ice left from his bolt. He stood up in one fluid motion and grabbed hold of the second blade of Argent in both hands. He smirked as his hands flashed with electricity, and like a lightning rod, it crackled through Argent, past the Grimm's armor, and straight into the softer insides of the monster.

The Grimm released a deep and unnatural cry of pain, and lurched forward. With the movement, Thyst was able to wrench Argent free from the Grimm, with a firm tug. He looked down at the swords in his hands, then back up at the Grimm. It was then that a sharp pain spread across his chest. As it fell, Thyst realized, the Grimm had contorted and twisted its body for just this reason. He hadn't pulled the blade from the Grimm, the Grimm had pulled itself off the blade. He looked down at the slash on his chest. He could tell it wasn't deep, he scoffed, he'd suffered worse. Then he stumbled back. The Grimm kicked him and he fell over.

His eyes were very itchy, not to mention, his legs were numb, why was that? His legs might be numb, but his chest on the other hand was in searing pain. He felt like hundreds of thousands of bugs were crawling all over his body, especially his face, and his hands. It kind of tickled.

On his back, out of the corner of his eye, Thyst could see Nickelas running, almost drunkenly, he wouldn't make it in time, that's for sure, Thyst sighed inside. If only Nick knew how to shoot a gun, then maybe he could help from that far away, rather than just extending his arm forward. Thyst looked up in time to see the tip of the blade coming down fast on him. That just meant he had to think faster. Thyst rolled to the side.

Only, he didn't. He couldn't move. But neither could the Grimm. It's blade hovered a few inches from Thyst's throat. He couldn't turn his head to see, but barely, in his peripheral vision, he could see Nickelas was locked in place, mid stride as well. Only one figure was still moving. And her hair shone white, as it rose around her head like a mass of serpents.

Magnolia's blindfold hung loosely around her neck. She walked slowly forward, being careful to step gently around Stick's body. She neither blinked nor looked away from the Grimm, like a blotch of spilt ink of a fresh piece of paper. As she approached the Grimm, she passed Nickelas, who fell to his knees on the deck as soon as he was behind her. He gasped for air, and looked up as the white haired faunas continued her eerily calm walk towards the Grimm. From within her kimono, Magnolia removed a total of four knives, two in each hand. She could tell the Grimm was writhing to regain control of its own body. With deadly precision, she threw two of the knives, which stuck into the exposed left elbow joint of the Grimm. Then with her other hand, she threw the two remaining knives into the unarmored back of its right knee. From her sleeves, both of her larger knives fell into her grip.

"It's over." she said, her voice hollow. The Grimm responded with another unnatural cry. But wait, no, that came from behind her, no she couldn't turn, not now, but what..?

Something dark dashed past Magnolia with astonishing speed, knocking her over in the process. Her eyes closed reflexively, and a wave of relief washed over them, but it was quickly overcome by confusion and agitation. The figure pounced without a moment's hesitation onto the Grimm, just as Magnolia's poisons caused its limbs to limp. Caught off guard and off balance the Grimm fell to the deck, and the new figure hunched over it, raising two sharply clawed hands, each stark white claw on them reaching nearly half a foot in length. With animalistic ferocity, these claws slashed and tore at the Grimm, leaving deep gashes in the white armor plating. The figure pulled back its left hand and jabbed forward for the Grimm's throat, but the Grimm caught the attack in its own clawed hand, and with this grip, tossed the new, slightly smaller figure to the side. The figure flipped through the air, rolled on the deck, and came to a skidding halt. The Grimm let out an ear splitting shriek, and the new figure responded even louder.

Magnolia pulled her blindfold back up and turned to Nickelas.

"Who's this, now?" she asked, but she got no response. Nickelas wasn't even facing her, or the battle. He was staring at the empty pool of blood from Stick's body. He turned and swallowed once, deeply.

"...Stick." he answered, staring at the new figure. It was Stick, that much was clear. But from just above his elbows down, his arms were covered in a black substance that shifted slightly from time to time, and as it reached his hands, solidified into the large white claws he was currently attacking the Grimm with. This same black substance, that looked like it was somewhere between a gas and a solid, somehow both at the same time, poured from the gash in his chest, and wrapped around his torso in a series of tendrils. From here, neither of them could see his face.

The Grimm swung at Stick with it's left arm, but he caught the blade tightly in the claws of his right hand, then with his own left hand, thrust four claws into the chest if the Grimm, between two plates of it's armor. It screamed, and dug its claws into Stick's back in return. Stick's body tensed, but made no sound as he withdrew his left hand and grabbed the Grimm by the forearm. Arching his back, forcing the claws deeper into himself, and sliding a single leg outwards Stick pushed the Grimm's right arm to the side, and thrust his chest forward tearing the claws from his back, then he bent over and swept the Grimm's leg out, keeping hold of its arm. He dug his claws into the forearm of the Grimm, and planted his right foot on its chest, before twisting his whole body. In a single, drawn out motion, there was a ripping noise as the Grimm's forearm tore from the elbow. With its remaining bladed arm, the Grimm swung upwards at Stick, who leapt from its chest and landed a few yards away.

Thyst watched on as the half of an arm in Stick's hand began to dissipate. But instead of turning to smoke and floating off, it slowly wrapped itself around Stick's own arm, until nothing remained of it. The Grimm got to it's feet, and stared at Stick with its featureless mask. The two stood motionless for just a moment, before the Grimm charged Stick. It swung wildly downward, which Stick dodged by a significant distance, the blade embedding itself in the metal of the deck. Stick dove forward, claws ready, just as the Grimm ripped the blade from the deck and spun around. The blade caught Stick's midsection at the apex of the swing and Stick growled an unearthly tone, seeming to echo in on itself repeatedly, before swinging with his right arm, and burying his claws into the neck of the Grimm. The Grimm's head cocked to the side and it growled back at him, before kicking Stick in the stomach and sending him flying back. It stalked forward towards Stick, and raised its only good arm in preparation to attack.

Repeated gunshots echoed off the deck, and Thyst could see the bullets ricocheting off the Grimm's back. With its head still cocked to the side, the Grimm turned, and faced the gunfire. Approaching from the bridge, Captain Albatross fired with stunning accuracy at the human-sized figure.

"Get off my ship, you sick bastardous excuse for a man!" he yelled, his voice gruff from age and anger. As he reloaded the rifle, dropping this spent magazine on the deck and pulling a second one from his belt, the Grimm stared at the approaching man. Then, as if it was about to comply with the command, it turned to silently face the horizon off the side of the ship. Before Albatross or the rest of TSNM could see what the Grimm's next move would be, a clawed hand wrapped around the Grimm's head, and in a swift thrust, hurled the armored Grimm. It collided with the railing, leaving sizable dent, then flipped over the metal bar, and fell out of sight. One final echoing scream escaped from Stick's mouth, which slowly faded into silence. His hair was loose, and strands covered his eyes, but even from here the unnatural appearance was clear. The sclera were pitch black, and his irises shone a furious shade of red, just as a Grimm's would. And spreading from his eyes, like splattered paint, two erratic blotches of black making it difficult to see where his eyes ended and his skin began. Even as they watched, these blotches began to crack and peel, a blue light shining beneath them. Stick's breathing was heavy and accompanied by a thick dark vapor. His elongated claws cracked, and fell off in chunks, before turning completely to dust on the deck. Before they knew it, all that stood before them was a young man, little more than a boy, in bloodied and torn clothing. Stick's legs gave out from under him, unable to support him, and he fell face first onto the cold, metal deck.


	15. SCARS OF THE PAST (II:IV)

**[II:IV]Scars of the Past**

"Oia, give me an estimate. How long until we reach our destination?" Albatross asked the artificial intelligence. There was a delay as calculations ran behind the faint glow.

"Estimated arrival, with stable variables: 33 hours." The computer stated. Albatross leaned back into the chair where he sat.

"Without variables?" He asked. The orb of light pulsated rhythmically.

"A number of variable are present. Most notable danger: Considerable loss of functionality in five of six main engines. Threat of total failure present. Suggestion: Immediate landing to conduct system-wide repairs. Variable two: Weather patterns. This area of Sanus is-" Albatross shook his head as the light continued to list off more possible variables. There was no time for that. He needed to get to Vacuo, 10-95 was active. Not to mention, now he had another Plaguebearer on his hands. He couldn't handle the thought of putting a bullet in the skull of any more of his own men. His heart rate accelerated. He took a deep breath and steadied his mind. It was that, or watch him become…

Captain Albatross ran across the metal deck of the airship, to where Stick laid face-down and motionless. Either age had rudely gifted Ferris Albatross with a severe case of dementia, or something far worse had just occurred. The broad shouldered man pushed his way past a crouched Nickelas. Tossing his rifle onto the deck, he knelt down and with his wide hands, turned Stick over, so he could see his face. As he watched, turquoise light overtook the red in his irises, and with one final flash, they faded back to his usual deep brown shade. Albatross controlled his breathing. Sliding his arms under Stick's shoulders, readied to hoist the boy up. He motioned with his head towards Nickelas.

"Come on, son, help me lift him!" Albatross said. Nickelas reacted quickly, positioning himself at Stick's feet.

"Ready." He reported. No response. He looked up at the captain. Albatross's eyes were fixated on Stick's mouth. A faint trail of black vapor escaped from the lips with each of Stick's weak breaths. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of the captain's brow.

"Sir!" Nickelas called out. Albatross shook his head and wiped the sweat away, then he apologized.

"Lift on three. One… Two… Three…" With a grunt, they both lifted Stick from the deck. "The bridge." Albatross said. "We need to get him inside." Nickelas nodded, and they walked with steady purpose towards the superstructure on the airship's top deck. The hatch opened as they approached. "Keep it open!"Albatross yelled. Tawney, at the metal hatch scrambled and pushed the door open all the way and got out of the way. As the two passed her carrying Stick, her face was overtaken with concern. "With us, Tawney." the captain ordered. "Down the stairs."

Stick was lowered carefully onto one of the ten empty cots in the infirmary. Albatross quickly undid the metal clasps on Stick's flight harness, tossing it aside, and pulled a folding knife from his pocket, opening the blade. With trained precision, he pulled the collar of Stick's shirt up and cut what was left of the fabric down the middle.  
"Help me get this off of him, one of you." He said. Thyst came to the other side of the cot and the two of them pulled the tattered remains of a shirt from Stick's torso. A number of large, fresh scars marked his body. Thyst looked from the scars to Albatross and back again. From behind Thyst, Nickelas spoke up.

"Shouldn't he still be bl-" he started. The captain turned. Nickelas stopped talking.

"Tawney, do your thing." He ordered. She nodded politely and nudged her way past Nickelas. The captain placed a hand on Nickelas's shoulder and with his silent grip, suggested the silver haired boy move out of his way.

"Thyst, Magnolia, stand back." he said, while behind him, Tawney began to rub her hands together. They watched as she leaned down near Stick's face, and rotating her hands so they were stacked vertically, she lifted her left hand from the top and extended the fingers of her right hand. Placing her chin against the heel of her palm, she pursed her lips and blew. A puff of glittering powder exploded from her palm and wrapped around Stick's face, before settling and vanishing from sight. Stick's breathing almost automatically slowed, and steadied. Tawney turned and nodded at the aged man, her father, who let out a relieved sigh. Silence filled the infirmary. Thyst took a step forward and faced Albatross.

"Sir, I don't want to be rude, but this seems all too familiar to you, I get the sense there's something you still haven't told us." He said. The captain stared down at his feet, after a moment without responding, he looked up.

Suddenly he was back in his house at Drydock. Thyst stood in front of him, so were Tawney, Nickelas, Magnolia. Even Stick was there, leaning nonchalantly against the countertop, his arms crossed.  
"...this is part of our history your academies don't like to teach." he heard himself saying. That vessel out there? That's not just some random airship. That's my old girl." He smiled, "She's a little beat-up, but just as beautiful as ever. How long's it been? Two decades?" A mix of confusion and wonder spread across the faces of those gathered around him. "

"Why didn't you go…" Nickelas mumbled, "You know, get it earlier? If it was this close all along, I'm sure with a little help from the military, you could have easily recovered it, and I would think they would've wanted it too, it's an entire semi-functional airship..."

"I was going to. I wanted to. But I wasn't ready to go back to Wedgewood back then. Then, well, before I could gather the willpower," he paced over a few steps to the side, and with his rough hand, he ruffled the hair between Tawney's oversized, furry ears. Her head retreated into her neck as he did this."I suddenly found myself to be a father. I had other concerns." He looked at Tawney and smiled. "But we're getting off-topic." He repositioned himself in front of everyone and held up the small metal chip in his hand, inspecting it. "See, that Grimm Headmaster Ozpin sent you to kill wasn't your ordinary- as difficult as it is to use that word in this context- creature of Grimm. Why he would send you to kill something like that was beyond me."

"Technically, sir, Headmaster Ozpin sent us to recover data, not directly to slay any Grimm." Thyst corrected.

"Oh no, trust me, he knew what was under that base. He knows all about Lullaby." Albatross retorted. "There's a lot I doubt he's told any of his students, plenty of things not even I know, I don't doubt." Albatross tossed the chip back to Thyst, who caught the piece of metal in his hands.

"But clearly, he also knew you could handle it, and I'm starting to see why." the captain said. He took a deep breath and paced back and forth for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Two years." He said. "That's how long it lasted, Operation Lullaby. Four Kingdoms, two companies from each of their militaries, and a few teams of the finest Huntsmen their academies could train." He turned to look out the window. "We had limited resources, only four airships in total, and you've already seen two of them." He turned back around. "It started with reports from Huntsman in the field, claiming they'd witnessed Grimm fighting, tooth and claw, against each other. At first, it was brushed aside as them seeing things, a result from being secluded in the wilderness for so long, as well as a many notable Huntsman being known to embellish their stories to captivate their audience. Until these reports started coming in from all four kingdoms. Frequently. The Kingdoms came together, and made a plan. They decided this would have to be a small, covert operation, as the idea of Grimm so aggressive their bloodlust extended to anything that moved would only spread more panic in the populace. So our Huntsman would locate Grimm exhibiting these aggressive, self-hunting, cannibalistic traits, and embed them with a tracking tag. From there, their job was simply to observe. Fenrir, as you may have noticed, was not a normal Beowolf. Nor was Tracker-84 a normal Death Stalker." Nickelas looked with concern at Stick.

He mouthed the words, "That thing was a Death Stalker?" Stick shrugged.

"These cannibal Grimm," Albatross heard himself continue, "liked to mutate into what we started to call Hellions... but we never found out exactly why." Albatross turned around, and kept talking. "There were some theories, but I'm no scientist, so I couldn't even begin to tell you."

Albatross spun around on his heel and his eyes fell on the unconscious Stick, lying on a dirty cot in the infirmary of the only remaining airship from Operation Lullaby, LKE-15. The captain cleared his throat and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in.

"The official records call it the Miasma." He said. At the mention of it's name, images flashed through his mind, men coughed, collapsed, stood back up. He lifted his gun, shaky in his grasp… he gulped and remembered where he actually was. "And it's why we failed to complete our mission." He stared at Stick for a moment. "To tell the truth," he struggled over the words, then released a resigned sigh, "your friend should already be dead."

"Captain. You vocal patterns indicate increased tension, however, we are not in an active combat scenario, are you unwell?" Oia interjected. The weathered man looked up, and he was back in the the bridge. Vocal patterns? Had he been talking this whole time?

"No, Oia, I'm fine. Thank you for the concern." He managed to shape the words. "I'm going to the infirmary, Oia, keep the ship on course."

"Captain, I am confused. You are not unwell, why proceed to the the infirmary?"

When Albatross made it to the infirmary, he found Tawney laying face-down on the cot directly across from Stick and a tiny smile broke his otherwise grizzled face.

* * *

"I don't know how I feel about just abandoning all those people from Drydock." Thyst said suddenly, turning around in his chair to face Magnolia. In response, she gripped his head tightly and made him face forward again.

"Sit still." She ordered. Thyst sighed and closed his eyes. The sound of snipping resumed. "I wouldn't be too worried, Thyst. I hear Patch is a lovely place, very friendly." Magnolia reassured her team's leader.

"I suppose..." he admitted, with another sigh.

"And a week's worth of supplies for six people won't feed thirty comfortably for more than two days." Nickelas chimed in from the hall outside. Thyst shook his head, prompting Magnolia to grab the sides of it again.

"Sit still." she hissed. "...before I cut you, or you make me take off this blindfold." With that threat, Thyst sat up straight and kept very still.

The snipping stopped, and Magnolia held out a small, reflective disc for Thyst to look at.

"Do you like it?" She asked. Thyst examined himself. Looking now, his hair was half of what it once was, hanging now at a length that left it around the tips of his ears. He shook his head, and adjusted the freshly cut hair with his left hand. He nodded and turned to face Magnolia.

"I like it." He said. "Having hair in my eyes all the time was starting to bother me."

"At least," Magnolia said. "You don't look quite as messy."

Thyst made a mock gasp and placed his hand on his chest. "I'm offended." Magnolia raised an eyebrow in response.

"I have to agree with Magnolia here…" Nickelas said, strolling into the officer's quarters-turned-barbershop. "Your old style was simply atrocious." He said, putting on the persona of a fashion judge.

"Watch what you say," Magnolia said, as she turned and pointed at Nickelas with a lethal knife hand. "You're next." Nickelas reflexively clasped his head with both hands. Magnolia shook her own head. She shifted her wrist a little. Nickelas looked down. "Your pants go first. Sweatpants?" She muttered, "Truly… I hope Vacuo's markets have something for you."

"Hey!" Nickelas protested, "the sweatpants are iconic!"

From behind him, Tawney stuck her head into the open doorway. She looked at them with sleepy eyes and waved.

"We're gonna be reaching Vacuo's shore in like, half an hour." She yawned. "Albatross said to get your butts ready to go." Her head dipped and she laughed quietly to herself. "He didn't actually say it like that, I'm paraphrasing." She looked up from her own feet and into the room. The first thing she saw was Magnolia gripping a pair of scissors, then her gaze fell on Thyst's shortened hair. "Hey uh…" she started to ask, "are you letting Magnolia cut your hair? But isn't…" She trailed off and shook her head. She rubbed her face with her hands and walked off down the passageway.

* * *

A single high-pitched buzz echoed through the cement maze of the parking garage, weaving in and out of parked vehicles. The night's chill pierced even this deep into the structure, and as the elevator doors opened, a gentle breeze brushed across the face of a figure wearing a trench coat the color of fine Barbera wine. As he stepped fully into winter's embrace, he removed a pair of flawlessly unstained white silk gloves from the inner pocket of his coat, and slid them on silently, his left hand first, followed by his right. He continued his leisurely pace across the cold grey floor as he adjusted his hands, pulling each finger of the gloves down to the corresponding knuckle before he was satisfied. He rounded the first corner he came to and a single parking space from him, idling beneath the ramp to the next level, was a long, low to the ground, matte grey sedan, the windows tinted to the such a dark shade one may think they're staring into the abyss were it not for their reflection in the glass. He pulled open the passenger-side door just in time to hear as second buzz echo out from around the corner. The inside the car was almost entirely black, the leather seats, the ceiling, and the dashboard, with it's many colored lights in stark contrast, were the same dark shade. In the driver's sat a young male, the black of his vest almost blended into the seat, were it not for the light blue paisley detailing that caught everyone's eye when they saw it. Beneath that vest he wore a grey buttoned shirt, similar in color to the cement outside the car, and he gave off a professional aura. His brunette undercut was combed back and held in place by product, but a few strands broke loose and hung around his face, poking a hole in his professional façade. One of his hands rested on the steering wheel and the other hand hovered like her was about to shift gears, drumming on the head of the stick with clawed fingers.

When the figure lowered himself into the passenger seat, the driver lifted his hand and retracted the claws.

"All set?" the driver asked turning to face the figure. He was answered by the sound of the passenger side door slamming shut. "Got it." he said. The driver floored the gas pedal. The car's rear wheels spun, smoking and squealing and the car battled to move, but it's front wheels refused to spin, holding it in place.

"Let's go." he said, releasing the parking brake. He jerked the wheel to the right, hand over hand, and the car responded, swinging out of the parking space in reverse, and passed backwards between parked cars, around the corner of the underside of the ramp. The driver righted the wheel, and kept the car under his soon as the car straightened out, he heard muffled yelling, followed by gunshots echoing through the parking garage. The driver rolled his eyes and sighed. If they messed up the paintjob… He lifted his foot off the gas pedal slightly, and pressed down on the clutch, then with his right hand, he started shifting gears. The car lurched forward and the driver spun the wheel to the left, the sedan accelerated and crashed straight through the boom barrier. At this hour, the streets were empty, but the driver refused to take his hand off of the stick.

* * *

...for Stick? I think he would like it. Stick is always wearing turtlenecks." a voice said to his left. The figure in red opened his eyes. The marketplace was a cacophony of voices and sounds, but above the rest, he heard these ones.

"But..." a second voice said, "I've never seen Stick wear color, at least."

"Hey," the first voice responded, pausing a moment, the figure in red turned to look at the source of the conversation. The owner of the first voice, a short male in purple was reading the shirt's tag. "Russet." he declared. "I think it'll goes well with that scarf Magnolia got him. Hey, Magnolia!" the purple voice called. The figure in red assumed the male in grey with silver hair was the second voice, based on his body language, and where he stood. A third figure in white rounded the corner of the stand and joined the two males. She was short, but a slight nudge taller than the purple one. She was clad in white, with red accents. Then he registered the serpent's tail. Intriguing. While the trio put down the lien, the figure in red pulled out his Scroll. Just to satiate his curiosity, he told himself. After a few swipes and selections, his scroll revealed a map, it took a moment to calibrate, then found his location. A small dot marked his location, within the rough outline that represented the city of Vacuo, and to his surprise, another dot on the opposite side of the city. His eyebrows raised, and so did he, taking his feet off the large black case he carried with him and standing up from the bench he sat on. Lifting the case from the ground, he located the trio, now joined by a sandy haired girl, with large, furry, brown ears that stuck straight up towards the sky. Her addition to the small group helped him keep a visual on their movements in the crowd as began to trail them from a distance. He was supposed to be meeting with a contact here in the marketplace, someone that would be able to smuggle him through Atlas's blockade, but he wouldn't be needing her anymore. The evidence was too strong to ignore, he knew Fate had blessed him and brought his prey directly to him.

* * *

"You're sure we can trust a bunch of thugs to keep our airship safe?" Tawney asked as they walked through a sea of people between market stands. Thyst turned his head but continued forward.

"Vacuo doesn't have a big government, Tawney, but that doesn't mean we don't have rules. I gave them half of the lien they asked for upfront, and they won't leave without the second half of the payment." He explained.

"They could just fly off with the ship, it's a new model of Atlesian craft, they're worth a lot, I can imagine that price doubles on the black market." She countered.

"That's true." Thyst admitted, "But I also know they got a good look at this right here." he said, flicking the earring that hung from his left earlobe. "And I know they're smart enough to know what it means." He turned as something on a stand to his left caught his attention. "And whether I like it or not, my clan has a reputation here." He continued. "People here in Vacuo know you don't try to fuck over a Salamander."

"Oh…" Tawney responded.

"Yeah." Thyst said. "Magnolia, are these the pants you were looking for, for Nickelas?" He asked, changing the subject. She turned and approached the pair of black track-pants, hanging from the roof of a nearby stand, each pant leg sporting white lines running down the outer side. She approached and ran her hand along the fabric. She nodded.  
"Not quite, but close enough" She said. "It'll work."

"Hey, do I not even get a say in my o-" Nickelas exclaimed

"Hands off the merchandise!" A woman's voice yelled from behind the counter, interrupting him. "If you wanna touch 'em, hand over the lien." Thyst sighed, and after handing over what he was due to pay her, handed them to Nickelas.

"Here ya go, buddy. Don't change yet." He said, as they continued on their way.

"Hey I..!" Nickelas protested, then grumbled to himself. Then his face dropped and turned serious. "Someone is following us." Thyst and Tawney both turned to face Nickelas. "Don't turn around. I don't think he realizes we know he's there. He's wearing a pretty heavy coat for this weather and more importantly he's carrying some kind of case… it's nearly as long as his body, and I don't want to find out what's in there." Magnolia nodded.

"I thought I sensed something ominous…" She agreed. Thyst took a deep breath. His tongue quickly darted between his lips and he looked up. "Keep walking." He said.

They continued forward, cautious to draw attention.

"He's still behind us." Nickelas reported.

They turned right.

"Still there."

They turned right again.

"He's getting closer."

They rounded one final corner and were suddenly in the open, having left the edge of the market grounds. Thyst motioned subtly to head towards the more permanent structures down the street.

"Split off," he said. "Magnolia, with me, Tawney, go with Nickelas, loop around the building and meet us in the alleyway. Be ready to fight."

* * *

The figure in red pursed his lips as he watched the group of four as they split off into pairs. He emerged from the marketplace and into a more developed section of the city. He either walked all the way around the building to follow one pair, or he took a left and followed the other pair into this alleyway. With barely a moment of thought, he stepped into the alleyway. Nothing. He cocked his head to the side, and continued walking down the alleyway.

Suddenly, a flash of purple above him. The figure in red swung the long black case in his right hand upwards and deflected the bladed gauntlet strike as it came down on him from above. Thyst landed, unbalanced, and caught off guard by the figure's speed. Swinging the case back to the right, he caught Thyst in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The figure in red dropped to a knee and flipping the case over his shoulder, he blocked his entire body from the storm of knives that proceeded to collide with the black leather of the outer cover. Magnolia dropped from the wall above him and swung the left fan of Amphisbaena for his throat. He ducked, and spun his body under the attack, catching the chain as it passed with the case, causing it to wrap around the black object, then he pulled on the chain. Magnolia was yanked forward, but she let herself be pulled, leaping and using the momentum to flip over the figure in red, unwrapping one of Amphisbaena's two blades as she passed. She landed next to Thyst, who had regained his poise, and got to his feet, slowly. The figure in red lowered his case to the ground and held his arms out to either side as an open invitation, a taunt.

Suddenly he was hit in the face with a pair of track pants. By the time he could pull the pants from his face, a silver form rushed past his opponents, and pain erupted across his face.

Nickelas reconsidered how he felt about the track pants as he punched the figure in red's jaw. The figure fell into the wall of the nearby building and slumped over. Nickelas turned and delivered a second solid punch to the figure's gut with his right fist. Then with his left, he grabbed his target's hair and exposed his neck, then with his other hand, Nickelas drew one half of Argent and pressed it up against the figure's throat.

"What… the… fuck… are YOU doing here?" Nickelas asked, deadpan. "I swore if I ever saw you again… Do you even remember her!?" He pressed Argent a little deeper into the flesh of the figure's neck. The young man coughed. "Answer me, asshole." Nickelas commanded, his face contorting to an expression of anger.

The figure eyes remained hollow and emotionless. There was a moment of silence between them.

"...who?" he asked. In response, Nickelas pushed Argent further. The figure coughed and managed to get some words out. "This is no way to treat your guests…" he said, raspily. Then, acting surprised, he raised a hand and rested it on Nickelas's shoulder.

"Oh..? I see the problem here." he asked. "Did Stick never tell you about his good friend, Vino?" the figure asked. At the mention of his name, Nickelas pulled the young man's head forward by his hair and slammed it back into the wall. The figure's arm slumped off of Nickelas's shoulder and after withdrawing his sword, the unconscious body fell forward and slumped on the ground.

"Oh, I'll show you hospitality..." Nickelas muttered.

Tawney ran up between Thyst and Magnolia, and look from the figure to Nickelas and back again. She looked to either side of her then back at Nickelas.

"Damn!" She exclaimed in surprise.


	16. CAGES (II:V)

**[II:V] Cages**

 _"I thought you were better than this…"_

Vino felt cold metal under his back. He opened his eyes slowly and looked to either side of himself. Dull walls, uncomfortable looking plank for a bed, a toilet. Right away, he knew this was a prison cell. There was a metallic knocking as Vino sat up.

"I see you're awake, finally. I must have given you quite the knock to the skull." Vino rubbed the back of his head. "You slept all night long." the voice on the other side of the bars said." Welcome to the Brig." the voice continued. "It's no five star hotel, but make yourself at home." the voice belonged to that silver haired kid with the ridiculous glasses. Nickelas lifted Vino's Scroll and held it up for him to see.

"I see you were tracking us." Nickelas stated, dangling the Scroll. "Personally, I'd like to know how and why." He snatched the Scroll up tighter in his grip and pocketed it. "But I don't trust you. So I'm going to wait for Stick to wake up, since you two are supposedly 'buddies'." Nickelas placed his hands on his hips and turned to the side. "Though, I don't know how much I trust Stick anymore, knowing that information."

Nickelas turned his head to look at Vino one more time. "You just wait here and don't go anywhere" he said with a smirk. Vino didn't respond, instead, the ship's alarm started blaring.

 _"Get up..."_

The warm water was soothing on Magnolia's skin. She had excused herself from a conversation with Tawney, requesting a moment to wash her face, explaining that it "felt gritty", to which Tawney replied with a smile; "Of course, I'll still be here."

Magnolia ran her fingers through the water and splashed her face one last time. She pulled a small towel from the edge of the sink, and simultaneously with her tail, she pulled her bright red blindfold from where it hung, over an exposed pipe on the wall. With her face dried, she folded the towel over her arm, and took the long, red bolt of cloth from the tip of her tail into her hands, and tied it around her head.

Exiting the washroom, she turned to the left and moved silently down the hall. She passed through an open doorway and into the room where she slept at night. Expecting Tawney to leap right back into their conversation, Magnolia was caught off guard by the silence that greeted her. The reason was clear when Magnolia found her bed to now be home to a sound-asleep Tawney Lukoje. Magnolia had never met someone who could fall asleep so easily. A small smile decorated Magnolia's face as she put her towel on the edge of her bed. She shifted her attention to the other pile of fabric at the foot of her bed. The second pile consisted of two items, the bottom item being a dark russet turtleneck, and the topmost item being a long turquoise colored scarf. The pile was marked with a small piece of stiff paper with Stick's full name written on it in Magnolia's own skillful calligraphy.

Leaving Tawney undisturbed, she lifted the pile of two and carried it carefully in her arms. When she made it to the infirmary, the only occupant was Stick, in a still and peaceful state. Magnolia's nostrils flared minutely. He looked colder than usual. She placed the gifts down on the empty cot beside Stick, careful to keep them neatly folded. Then she turned to face him.

His fingers were cold against her own. Laying there, the only thing he wore were his pants, and an old off-white sheet. With a single finger from her other hand she traced a long scar - one of many that decorated his upper body - that stretched from his abdomen to the bottom of his ribcage. This fast, this complete a recovery… to her knowledge, thus was beyond the capabilities of Aura. What exactly had happened to him? Any thoughts she had were interrupted by a sudden and overwhelming blaring of alarms. Her hand tensed around Stick's fingers, and she withdrew them rapidly, doing her best not to disturb him, either.

 _"Are you just going to lay there..?"_

Thyst sat with both legs dangling precariously over the railing at the bow of the airship. He couldn't feel it, the shifting was so miniscule on this massive scale, but small waves far beneath him rocked the ship, now afloat in the shallow coastal water where they landed a day and a half ago.

Stretched out before Thyst were the shifting sands of his childhood. He remembered, when he came of age, the words they had told him, of the knowledge gained from this very sand.

"Nothing in this life is permanent..." they would say, "...but that only means you can change it." they would continue, "Like footprints in the sand, even if for just a moment, we leave marks where we tread." they would then conclude, dragging a foot through the warm sun-baked sand, to punctuate the point.

Close to the shore, shoots of green, dull but present amongst a backdrop of dry brown tones, dotted the ground, and from his vantage, added a comforting glow of life to the landscape. A journey to the West, and they were in Vacuo. His gaze scanned south across the horizon. And out there, deeper into the the desert, somewhere… a life he knew well.

His reflection was cut short by a sudden screeching from above. His instinct kicked in, eyes snapping to the sky, as he pushed himself from the railing, swinging his legs smoothly over the metal bar until he faced the stern of the ship. Nevermores, he thought. Just as he did, a black form swooped down the with murderous intent. The Grimm's talons screamed against the metal top deck, but found no Huntsman.

By pushing off the railing with his feet, Thyst had narrowly evaded the Nevermore's attack. He hung at the apex of his jump for a moment, then began to fall back towards the deck. In the corner of his eye, the Nevermore pulled up and veered to the right. In the instant before he landed face-first with the deck, he vanished, a mere hand's length away from the collision.

 _"I know you can hear me..."_

On the bridge, Albatross sat behind a fresh copy of Violet's Garden, a gift from Tawney's day trip to Vacuo. She'd come back starry eyed and with more words than her mouth could handle. Somewhere in her excited gibberish, she'd thrust the book forward, and the old man swore she nearly cracked one of his ribs. In response he chuckled and lovingly pat his daughter's head between her disproportionately tall, constantly twitching bat ears. He was torn up inside, where one part of him wanted to have gone with her when she returned to Vacuo for the first time, the other half refused to leave the Coleridge without a captain again. The kids had been talking about giving her a new name, and Albatross agreed with them. A new name for a new chapter in her life, he reasoned.

It was during a particularly intriguing scene near the climax of the novel that a monstrous screeching followed by a metallic scraping ripped his attention from the characters in the text. At the very bow of the ship, a shadow streaked across the sky. Putting the book down, Albatross got to his feet and approached the panel of angled glass at the front of the bridge. He placed a hand on the console in front of him and leaned to get a better view of the sky. The moment he brought his face close to the glass, a black mass met him halfway, slamming into the bridge, and after initially jumping back, he recognized it as a Nevermore. A pulse of purple electricity danced across its body, as Thyst pulled both of the blades mounted to his wrists free from the neck of the Grimm. Albatross watched as Thyst braced his legs, then pushed off the Grimm, and launched himself diagonally into th air. In a flash of movement Albatross couldn't follow with his eyes, he latched onto a second Nevermore as it flew past at high speed. Albatross felt around the control panel below him blindly, unable to take his eyes from the many black, winged shapes that currently filled the sky above him. He found what he was looking for with his fingers, and lifted the plastic safety cover. With a clenched fist, he slammed down on the bright red alarm button. Almost instantly, the blaring of auditory warning echoed through every passage and found its way into every corner of the ship.

 _"I will not be ignored…"_

From Thyst's view atop the Nevermore, he could see more of the desert than he could just a minute ago. Just beyond the horizon were randomly scattered, but tightly grouped formations of Grimm. Something was off-putting about the sight of this. Thyst put a hand to his right ear.

"Nickelas, we've got Grimm on the ground, I need you out the landing ramp!" he yelled over the rushing air around him. There was silence on the other end, then the crackling of radio static.

"Understood." Nickelas's voice answered, "Magnolia, head left, landin…" his voice stopped suddenly from his end. Thyst felt a lurching sensation as the Nevermore suddenly turned, and Thyst's weapon started to shake loose. He swore, and swung his free arm, lodging the second blade into the Grimm's back. He turned to face the Grimm eye to eye before he killed it, but stopped suddenly. Last time Thyst had seen a Nevermore, he was pretty sure it had eyes. This one didn't. Things just kept getting stranger, but there was no time to think about it.

Just as a third Nevermore flew closer, Thyst fired three times into the back of the Grimm's head, before leaping off the large bird as it lost control of its flight. He flipped backwards through the open air, and the circle of lights, under the pair of wings printed on the the back of his purple shirt in white, shone briefly. He vanished from sight, then in an instant, both his feet were planted on the mask of the new Nevermore, this one too, lacking the necessary holes in the mask to reveal the fiery eyes Thyst presumed lay beneath. Out of the corner of his eye, far below him, Thyst could see the landing ramp of the airship lower onto the shore, and the two figures that emerged from inside the airship.

 _"You should be thanking me. I have your best interests in mind."_

Two Huntsmen emerged from the lowered ramp, mid-sprint. Visible now were the small groups of Grimm approaching them, and their airship. Amphisbaena fell from Magnolia's sleeves as she took the lead, passing Nickelas. The knives slipped past his hands, and he took a firm grasp of the paired chains. While Magnolia continued to run forward, Nickelas took a firm stance at the foot of the ramp. The slack on the chains tightened and Nickelas spun around once, full circle, swinging Magnolia like an amusement park swing ride, releasing the chains after one full rotation. Magnolia accelerated through the air, in a shallow arc over the sand. She collided with full force against the head of the Alpha Beowolf, causing it to snap back harshly. The Grimm lost it's footing and fell back and into the dunes. Magnolia stood to her straighted backed, full height in the middle of the party of Grimm; a Deathstalker, two remaining Beowolves, and a half dozen Creeps. She pressed his right fist to her left palm and bowed, a customary greeting, given to creatures with no sense of customs. She rose once more and pushed further with her right fist, cracking her knuckles. The remaining Beowolves swiped at his in unison , but she danced between the twin strikes, leaping over them. The claws of the Grimm instead slashed across the fallen Alpha's throat, which thereafter stopped moving. Magnolia spun mid air, and the trailing chains of the two blades of Amphisbaena wrapped tightly around the forearms of the Beowolves. Magnolia landed in front of the Deathstalker, just as it rose a claw to jab at her. She tugged on the chain in her fist, and pulled one of the Beowolves between the attack and her. The claw pierced its torso. The Deathstalker rose the other claw and thrust with it. Magnolia tugged on the other chain and blocked the first attack in the same manner. The Beowolves began to sublime to smoke, and Amphisbaena's blades unwrapped from their forearms. Magnolia burst through the dark cloud, and positioned herself just above the Deathstalker's head. With an open palm strike, she struck its head downward into the sand, a fine crack appearing across the top of its mask. She pushed off the Grimm with the follow through of the strike, and bent over backwards, landing with both feet at the base of the Deathstalker's tail. She spun her left foot in a smooth curve along the Grimm's flat back, then with sudden force, spun in a circle, elongating her tail. The sharp edges of the armor on her tail slashed through the Deathstalker's own, and the lost appendage fell away into the sandy dunes. She straightened herself out and flicked her tail to the side, removing any residual Grimm from it. She raised her left hand parallel to the right side of her jaw and smiled as the Creeps charged her.

 _"If this is how you're going to act, then you're not even fit to be a Huntsman."_

Above Stick, the hazy image of an arm reached for the ceiling. He must have been dreaming about his dad, he could still hear his voice. The arm above Stick moved sharply but with little control. A black mist hovered about the limb, flowing between the fingers. As he watched with open eyes, the vapor tightened around the arm. His arm, this was his arm. A second skin of midnight black was quickly consuming his left arm. He came to his senses quickly, an alarm blaring above him, and his vision focused. No, he thought, no, not again. Stick's right arm tensed at his side, and his natural claws slid out from his finger tips. A wave of unnatural anger overcame Stick, and with his claws he swiped across his arm from just above the elbow, diagonally to his wrist, pulling the black substance from his skin. He turned his right hand and swiped again, dragging the claws across the inner forearm of his left arm, tearing more of the substance away.

A second voice, not his father's, emerged in the back of his mind, as a mere whisper. It uttered a single echoing word, like a child learning how to say something for the first time.

 _"Hatred…"_

The ebony substance retreated from the claw marks and vanished into the open, self-inflicted wounds. He looked on in horror as blood came to the surface of the cuts. The curious voice echoed in Stick's mind once more.

 _"Fear..?"_

Stick watched as thin tendrils of black emerged from the slashes, pulling together the wounds like surgical sutures. Regaining more control of his left arm, Stick lowered it to his side, and quickly looked from side to side for something to dress his wounds. He spied a roll of fresh bandages on the table to his right and reached for them.

 _"You're going to look at me..."_

Nickelas slashed the leg out from under the Beowolf as it rose to swipe at him. The Grimm tipped to the side and as its neck reached Nickelas's shoulder height, he decapitated the monster with the other sword. A Creep charged clumsily from his left, and Nickelas twisted his waist, thrusting the right half of Argent into the Creep's side. He flipped his grip on it, and pulled the blade out so he was wielding it backhanded. The second Beowolf sprinted at him, and with his left blade, he slashed the Grimm's chest, followed by the backhanded blade, until he held both swords to his left. He bent to the side and kicked the Grimm in the stomach. The Beowolf doubled over, and Nickelas drove the backhanded blade through the nape of the Grimm's neck, until it came out the other side of the throat. He stepped forward, then switched his grip on the blade again, grabbing it behind his back as the Beowolf fell forward. He yanked the sword forward over his shoulder, and brought it down, into the face of an incoming Creep. He stared at the Grimm in front of him for a moment. Was he seeing this right? Did the mask have no eye holes? That was… abnormal. He planted his left foot on the Creep's mask and dislodged his sword. He planted both feet in place, and tilted his head to the left a bit. Just as he did, the Deathstalker's glowing stinger rushed past where his head was a moment before. He raised the left half of Argent and readied to face the Grimm, then he stopped. He lowered the sword as a purple streak collided with the Deathstalker.

Thyst slammed into the Grimm like a falling star, and there was a loud snap as the Deathstalker's exoskeleton cracked, and it's legs splayed out under the force of the impact. It didn't get back up. Nickelas flipped up his visor and scanned from side to side with his eyes. A short jog to his right, Magnolia tore a fan from the throat of one final Beowolf. It was the last Grimm he could detect. He could have sworn there were more, than this, before.

 _"Let me see your eyes…"_

Tawney ran up behind the captain, and with confusion in her voice.

"The hell is going on with all the alarms?" she exclaimed, throwing her arms out in front of her, and opened her palms to knife hand nothing in particular. Albatross turned to face her, and motioned for her to look out through the glass.

"Grimm." He answered. Tawney peered outside and took in the scene. She turned to the captain, then back to the battle in the desert.

"Grimm." she agreed. She narrowed her eyes and look at the black shapes, as they battled against forms of color. "Hey… are those Grimm… retreating..? Isn't that something… you know, Grimm don't do?" Albatross nodded silently.

 _"I said stand up and look me in the eyes!"_

Stick's left arm gave out under him as he leaned, and he began to slip from the cot, headfirst. In a panic, he shifted his weight in an attempt to fall on his feet, rather than his face. The fingers of his right hand gripped the edge of the table as he fell from the cot. His feet touched the ground and his legs buckled. The table stayed firmly where it was, being bolted to the floor, but in this case, it would have benefitted Stick if the table were loose. With his legs limp and unresponsive, Stick's forehead slammed directly into the edge of the table and bounced off of it, as he fell to the floor. He propped himself on his still shaky left arm, and rubbed his forehead with his right hand. He took a deep breath and grabbed the edge of the table again, pulling himself up. He threw his right arm onto the surface of the table with a relieved sigh and quickly snatched the bandages before slipping back off the polished metal of the table.

Stick rolled over and tore the plastic wrap from the bandage roll with his teeth. Four small, metal, hooked clasps fell onto the floor from the packaging, with quiet clinks. He rolled to the side, unrolling the bandages enough to catch the end under his left palm, then pinned his own arm in place. He hastily wrapped his arm with the entire roll, from palm to shoulder, pinning it along the way with the clasps so it would hold firmly in place. When he was done, he rolled over, and came to a rest on his back. He took a moment to breathe, while staring at the ceiling. The alarms suddenly stopped and he laid there in the silence for a few minutes. Now that he had time to take it all in, he realized he couldn't feel his legs.

Stick heard multiple sets of footsteps approaching from down the hall.

"I hadn't even considered the alarms might have woken him..!" he could hear Tawney exclaiming. "I should have checked on him first, before I ran from the bridge, I know, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, Tawney." Magnolia's barely audible voice responded.  
"Besides, look on the bright side." Nickelas said, his voice rapidly hardening. "If he's awake, then that means he can talk."

"I guess…" Tawney admitted. The voices, and footsteps grew louder, until they suddenly stopped at the opening to the infirmary. Tawney, leading the pack, covered her mouth when she saw the state of Stick.

"Oh no…" she muttered from behind his fingers, "This is worse than I…" She rushed to Stick's side, kneeling on the ground. "Are you..?" She noticed the blood seeping into the bandages on his arm, the bandages she never put on him, her head whipped up to the cot, where blood stained the old sheet Stick had been lying under. Whatever had happened, happened recently. This was fresh. Thyst knelt down next to Tawney.

"Stick, talk to me, are you with us? Can you hear me? How are you, are you okay?" He questioned. Stick's right hand slid off his forehead and he looked up, opening his eyes. He laughed nervously.

"I can't walk."


	17. RETROSPECT (II:VI)

**[II:VI] Retrospect**

"No, Magnolia, I don't care. I've already waited since last night. He got his sleep. He and I need to talk now." Nickelas's voice said from out in the hall and around the corner. Contrary to what Nickelas claimed, Stick hadn't closed his eyes - other than to blink - the entire previous night.

"That guy in the brig-"

"You can't do that to him right now, Nickelas, let him recover." Magnolia's quiet voice cut Nickelas off.

"He's a criminal, Magnolia, and after all the pain he's caused…" Nickelas sighed aggressively, "...so excuse me if I want to know why a _murderer_ like him is waltzing around acting like a close friend of mine," he pressed an index finger into his own chest, "is his good ol' fucking pal!" Nickelas retorted. Magnolia hushed him quickly.

"Sh… Stick can probably hear us, Nickelas." Magnolia warned. Nickelas ignored Magnolia, and attempted to push his way past her, into the infirmary.

"Good." Nickelas said. "Let him."

Nickelas made it a single step into the long cot-filled room, but a purple shape materialised in front of him, hooked its arm around Nickelas chest, and pushed him back into the hall.

"Leave him alone, Nick." Thyst said sternly. His voice shifted volumes to a whisper. "He's clearly not in any state of mind to talk in the first place."

Nickelas shoved himself free of Thyst grasp with a huff, and stormed down the passageway. "We're leaving for Vacuo in ten minutes, Nick, get yourself together." Thyst called after him. "You need to be ready to fly."

* * *

Birds chirped amongst wind the rustled branches of neatly aligned trees, each symbol of nature carefully contained in their designated plots. The droning sound of man-made chatter drowned out the pleasant twittering of birds before long, as students, new and returning, continually arrived, sharing their many hopes of a having that good first day that is ever so coveted.

Thyst arrived a year late to his first day at Beacon. To be fair, at seventeen, he had no intent of becoming a Huntsman. Back then, it was enough for him to be just be a Salamander, but in the past year, things had changed. The image of Dust mines would forever haunt him, he knew, without a doubt. Before stepping out of the airship, Thyst felt the small of his back for Garuda and Indra. Their presence was a comforting one. Next on the list of insecurity was his age. It was going to take a while to get over being a year older than every other Huntsmen-in-Training in his class, but luckily for Thyst, his stature was on his side. As short as he was, he could easily pass for younger than he was. It was a dumb thing to worry about, he was fully aware, but the last thing he needed was to stand out. That's what he had came to Beacon to avoid, rather than attending Vacuo's own Shade Academy. As far as anyone here was concerned, Thyst of Salamander didn't even have a name, and that's how he wanted it. Behind him, the airship took off, and another flew in to take its place.

In the reflection of the glass, Stick Brinewater could see the dark-suited man, his hair pulled back tightly and held in place with a copious amount of hair gel, slide him an unassuming folder of documents across a polished wooden desk. The image of the man's blood-red tie fit tightly around his thick neck was burned particularly harshly into Stick's memory. He took a deep breath and leaned his body against the reflection to hide it from his own sight. That was his past, he thought, as he pushed himself off the reinforced glass, and this, this was his future, he assured himself, as the spire of Beacon's central tower came into sharp relief against the sky. It was going to be difficult trying to explain his lack of any weapon, whatsoever, he realized. But how much could really be expected from a Primaries dropout? He laughed quietly to himself.

One of the buttons was loose, Nickelas realized, as he fidgeted with the curiously constructed object in his hands, seated silently aboard the airship. He was surrounded by young people, about the same age as he was, and it made him uncomfortable. Not because he was socially inept or anything like that, even as an introvert, Nickelas knew the proper ways to conduct conversation and could smoothly navigate any social wilderness. No, right now, he was nervous because his vision was crowded, there were too many people, and too many things. All their shapes were all blurring together into an absolutely imperceivable mess. The airship lowered itself to the dock, and Nickelas quickly, but carefully, placed the object - some hybrid of a microphone and calculator, both attached to a headband, with a great deal of duct tape by the looks of it - back into his bag and slung it over his shoulders.

A rainbow of colors danced around Magnolia as she sat with one leg over the other, silently and peacefully taking in the world around her. Never before had she seen this many people gathered in one place, and she had performed on a great number of stages. A crackling, purple figure walked past Magnolia, moving with purpose. Magnolia's tail swished gently behind the bench on which she sat. Her nostrils suddenly flared, and she shifted her gaze smoothly as the most recent shipment on students unloaded themselves. Truly a sight to behold, she repeated for nearly the tenth time that day, as a wave of color poured from the cold metal of the airship. The colors scattered, dispersing to go their separate ways, interacting with other blotches of distant color. In the crowd, Magnolia picked up two distinct hues. On the left, a silvery figure struggled with an unseen object, and as he did, a second figure approached him from the extended ramp of the airship. This second figure was of particular interest to her, as even from here the taste of his Aura hung pungent in the air, that faded shade of turquoise, extremely dense around him. She tracked the two as the turquoise figure helped the silver one hoist an oversized trunk off the ground and carry it away from the dock, where even now, the airship was already departing. As they passed, Magnolia could hear the coattails of an awkward, one-sided conversation between them.

"I know I've already said it, and I'm sure I'll say it again once we get to the dorms, but thanks for the help, I can only imagine dragging this thing the whole way… my parents tried to convince me to pack lighter, but I simply had too many things I couldn't leave behind, unfinished projects and what not…" The silver figure continued his muttering, and the turquoise figure just nodded with the occasional "Mmhmm." As they passed, she could feel the eyes of the turquoise figure on her, distracting him further from the conversation at hand. The first reason she could think of for his starring were her, one might say, natural gifts. Though, Magnolia felt his gaze different than most. His eyes fell softly, with less intent, perhaps he was just perplexed by the blindfold and tail? There were not many faunus here, she did suppose. Magnolia canted her head and with a fluid motion, leapt off the bench.

* * *

Magnolia soared through the open air, high above the trees. She wondered if this happened yearly. Did the Headmaster here make a habit of launching students off of cliffs and into Grimm infested locales? She shrugged internally, and let go of her grip on one of the two hooked blades of Amphisbaena. As she approached the canopy, she swung the blades forward from behind her, and waited for the distinct vibration to travel up the chain that trailed its way into her sleeve. The chain tightened and tugged her backwards, putting increased pressure on her shoulder, but the series of straps beneath her clothing distributed the force, easing the pressure. She burst through the leaves of the canopy in an instant, tightened the chain and swung around the tree branch where one of her blades had buried itself. As she reached the opposite end of the arc on her swing and whipped a second hooked knife towards the tree. It stuck instantly into the tree bark, and with both chains at their full length, she swung gently to the ground. She took in her surroundings rapidly, spinning in place. She found nothing. Then her nostrils flared with a familiar scent. Above her the turquoise one was coming down quickly, and it didn't look like he would be slowing anytime soon.

Nickelas spun both blades of Argent in his hands, then slammed them together, back to back, into the shape of a shield. He tucked his legs into his chest and placed a single foot on either blade. Calculation ran through his head, unfinished thoughts from before he had be launched into the sky. He gripped the edge of this outline of a shield tightly as the trees grew upwards to meet him. A blue light shone from the center on his command, as the canopy enveloped him. Then suddenly, it vanished, but Nickelas didn't seem worried. In fact, this was all according to plan. Mere inches from the ground, a bright pulse of light, indicating an otherwise unseen kinetic force, burst from the shield and pushed Nickelas back upwards a few feet. In mid-air, he pulled the shield to his forearm, and braced his legs. When his feet connected with the ground, he tucked and rolled a couple feet, then stood to his full height and searched the area around him with his Semblance. Just his luck, he thought as he adjusted the strange contraption on his head, 'I'm the one who got to land right next to the Grimm.'

Stick had a plan, sort of. As he fell, he shifted his weight so he would land feet-first, at least. The soles of his boots emitted a pale turquoise light with nothing beneath them but air, through on closer inspection the air itself seemed to shimmer beneath the black leather of Stick's footwear. He really hoped his theory worked, he didn't exactly have the time to perform multiple trials, at the moment. He could feel himself slowing, but not by nearly enough to make for a soft landing. His feet collided at high velocity with the trunk of a tree, and the turquoise glow spread rapidly to cloak the entire tree attached to the trunk, reaching all the way to the roots. Stick's knees bent rapidly, as he hit the solid surface, and he prepared himself for broken legs. Just as he mentally braced himself for excruciating pain, and snapping bones, and the idea that he may never walk again, the tree began to lean. Roots snapped, and pulled themselves loose from the ground, and the entire tree began to fall to one side beneath him. The tree crashed to the forest floor in a cloud of fallen leaves and dirt, and Stick stepped off of it, focusing on nothing more than keeping his balance. He stumbled forward and nearly walked straight into the pale serpentine faunus from the day before. She looked down at the fumbling figure and waited for him to stand up. Once he had, she waved politely. Stick raised an index finger and opened his mouth to speak.

"So, the rules said first person you make 'eye contact' with, but…" He said, but Magnolia cut him off.

"Yes, this counts." She said. Stick gave a thumbs up.

"Found a partner, already." he said. "Cool."

Thyst rolled his eyes. This was easy. 'Landing strategy?' he asked himself. There was nothing to it, in fact, being launched at high speed through the air was exactly what he needed to make this so simple. He cracked his knuckles underneath the gauntlets of metal on his arms, and prepared himself. Instantly, he was gone from sight. The only thing to indicate where he vanished to was a bright and jagged streak of purple, and a thundercrack. He came down hard, and in a flash of light, boot first into the neck of a Beowolf. The Grimm's head snapped back, and it fell limply on the forest floor. He looked up, stretching his shoulders as the dust cleared. A faint deep blue glow hovered in the dirt that hung in the air. When the dust settled, Thyst could just begin to make out a head of silver hair, and a very strange headset, with… a calculator on it?

"Oh, whoops, sorry." Thyst said, noticing the figure's two swords, primed to swing. "Were you about to get that one?" The figure lowered his swords and sighed.

"Yes..!" he said, in a visibly annoyed tone. Then his demeanour shifted. "But… thank you, I suppose."

* * *

"T-", the letters began, across the large screen. "-SNM", it completed.

"From this day forward, you will work together as Team Tsunami…" The headmaster announced to the group of four, and the crowd behind them. "Led by Thyst…" Ozpin paused as if contemplating the rest of the name. "...Salamander". Thyst straightened his back, and nodded his head slightly. _Leader of the team_ , he thought, _this was going to be an interesting few years..._

Next to Thyst, Stick's mind had gone blank. Had Magnolia not nudged him forward, he would have failed to even mount the stage when his name was called. Arriving at Beacon was one thing, but being here, officially recognized as a member of a Huntsman team. It was finally occurring to him that this was real, and his brain couldn't process it.

Nickelas stood stoically, unseen to the crowd, a pair of broken glasses clutched in his hand. He was going to change the world. This was his duty to his family, to his town, to the people of Remnant. His chest swelled with pride as the headmaster said his name, and he only let his face crack the slightest smile.

Magnolia stood with her hands folded, and no indication of how she felt or what she thought. When her name echoed through the room, she bowed her head politely. So this was her team? Once again, she was stuck with nothing but boys around her. Fine by her, she supposed, that made it more like home already...

* * *

Albatross flipped the hat over in his hands, and rose from his knee. He stared at the brimmed cap he had lifted off the floor and pushed a series of memories back into the depths of his mind as he did. He tucked the dirty white cover under one arm, and lifted his own from the table in the mess deck. It was disrespectful to leave it there, he knew, but he was sure he would be forgiven. No one reprimanded the commanding officer. With two identical covers in his arms, Albatross departed into the passageway and made his long trek back to the bridge.

Albatross reached the top of the metal steps, and entered the control center of the airship, the _Coleridge,_ he reminded himself on final time. It wouldn't be so for much longer. Before him, Tawney say cross legged on the main control panel, mid-conversation with Alexandra.

"...two, three days, maybe, then we'll pretty much have our own little CCT tower." Ms. Rite explained to Tawney, with crossed arms. "That'll make keeping in touch with TSNM a helluva lot easier." Tawney nodded, acting as if she had understood everything the woman in overalls had said for the past five or so minutes. She got that last part, but, not much else… She wasn't one for all the technical speak, but she couldn't bring herself to make Ms. Rite stop and explain everything she was saying, so she just pretended to understand what was going on. She saw the old man walk past, and place a white object on his chair, before turning around to face the two.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He asked, holding a second white and glossy black object in his hands. Ms. Rite shook her head, "Oh, no, I was just finishing explaining the comms array I'm jerry-rigging together so we can communicate with TSNM in the field. She seems really interested, Ferris. You've got yourself one smart girl." Tawney laughed nervously. Albatross smiled behind his gruff, bearded jaw.

"Speaking of you, Tawney…" the captain said, shifting the subject, "Get your _smart_ rear-end off of my ship's controls." Tawney hmph'd and crossed her arms.

"What?" she challenged, "Afraid I'll break something? Are you calling me fat?" she accused her father, sarcastically.

"No." the old man shook his head. "It's just customary that you stand for a promotion, Tawney." Tawney gave her father a narrow-eyed look of confusion. "Stand up already." he insisted. She did, uncrossing her legs, and dangling them from the control panel, before hoisting herself over onto the floor. "Face me." Albatross said. She did. He looked down at the cap in his hands, then up at Tawney. He took a deep breath and raised it above Tawney's head. He tried his best to position the cover between Tawney's large bat ears, and failed, the brim ende up lopsided, and one of her ears bent at an awkward angle.

"Stay right here." Albatross said, finally giving up on having the hat sit properly. "We'll adjust it later." He turned, and faced the captain's chair, where his own cover sat, waiting for him, unworn for decades. A second wave of emotion cascaded over his head, but he stood stoically against it. His gaze was locked on the dusty cover for too long before he finally reached out to grab it. He turned to face Tawney, and as he did, he raised the cover to his head, and pulled it tightly over his slowly thinning hair. It still fit him perfectly. He raised his right hand, pressing the very tip of his longest finger to the brim of the cap.

Tawney looked from side to side, unsure of what to do next, looking for guidance from anyone. To her right, Alexdra Rite swept the air with her fingers, and pointed at the captain with her eyes, telling Tawney to get on with it. Looking up at her father, Tawney nervously darted her tongue out between her lips, then looked down at his right hand. Slowly, and with uncertainty, she raised the hand to mimic Albatross's own posture. They stood like this for a few seconds, before the sea captain sharply snapped his arm back to his side.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Lukoje." He stated plainly.

Red rushed up Tawney's chestnut-colored cheeks.

* * *

"...nothing!" Nickelas exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. "We spend all day looking for leads on where we can find some engines, and we find nothing, it's almost as if they aren't a hot commodity on the markets, you know, it's not like their expensive military hardware only the government has full access to, or anything, no, they're just a few laying around, I'm sure, all we have to do is…" His little rant went on as he, Thyst, and Magnolia walked down a busy street in the city of Vacuo, the sun setting behind them. "...no way we're getting anything from _Vacuo's_ government, especially with the state of the world at the moment…" Thyst noticed something on the wall as they passed, and stopped, and Magnolia stopped and turned around to see why, while Nickelas kept walking. After a second, he too noticed his teammates had stopped. He jogged back to them. He found Magnolia facing Thyst, who was looking down at something in his hands. It was a torn piece of paper, Nickelas could tell, and freshly torn down, at that. Before Nickelas could read the contents of the paper, Thyst crumpled it up and with a spark of purple electricity, set the ball of paper ablaze. It went up in flames, and as the smoke cleared, Thyst came eye to eye with Nickelas.

"If we want to get to the government…" Thyst muttered, "then I know a group that's very close to the government here in Vacuo. " He said. " Let's get some rest, guys, tomorrow's a big day."

"Why's that?" Magnolia asked.

"Tomorrow," Thyst said, "we hire a Salamander."


End file.
